The Brothers, Son and the Musketeers
by Paxfriday
Summary: When the king's delegation to a province is ambushed on the road it leads the musketeers on a quest to find the man who would attack a king, terrorise villages and murder their brothers.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The ambush.

"Has it been dry for more than five minutes since we left Paris?" Porthos grumbled for the thousandth time.

"I'm sure it has, just not anywhere we are going," Aramis replied without any trace of mirth.

"It's supposed to be summer soon," D'Artagnan agreed, glancing at Athos to see if he would finally pass comment.

Athos ignored them, shrugging his cloak in an attempt to relive it's wet dead weight but it just allowed a chill in across his shoulders. He nudged his horse onwards through the mud.

They were among a group lead by captain Treville on their way to the province of the Duke of Deverell. They were only on the second afternoon out of Paris and in fine weather the estate was not two full days from the capital. In the rain with the mud soaked roads Athos thought them unlikely to make it there by nightfall. The Duke of Deverell had invited King Louis to come and see the new innovations he had made in farming, as far as Athos knew he had been inviting the king for sometime with little result. And he would be bitterly disappointed with the party heading his way as the king was supposed to be with them, arriving with great pomp and circumstance to the duke's land. However, unwilling to travel for days in the rain, Louis had sent his trusted Captain Treville in his place.

Athos had been there at the time. "Go in my place Treville, take your musketeers and impress him" had been the king's orders, "see what he has done and invite him back here to explain it all to me." At that they had bowed and they had left.

And now here they were, Athos sighed. Soaked through, though perhaps not overly cold he conceded, trudging along a hillside path in a young woodland all too sparse to offer them any shelter from the rain. Behind him Porthos grumbled yet again and Athos wondered why it was that the two Musketeers he was most fond of were also the most vocal. Beside him D'Artagnan joined in with the grumbling and he knew that the young man would be no different to the two friends he already had. He was pretty sure none of the other thirty or so musketeers in their company were constantly complaining.

Ahead of him captain Treville turned in his saddle with an amused look towards him and Athos shook his head. Looking beyond Treville, Athos frowned as the lead musketeers' horse shied and slipped down off the road down the slope, it quickly recovered stumbling back onto the path, but Athos was wondering what had caused it: he thought he had seen something moving in the woods through the rain. Treville understood the expression on Athos' face and started to look for the reason the horse shied too. Behind him Athos' companions fell silent and he could feel the whole company become more alert as the mood of their most senior members changed.

Athos was just about to say that perhaps it was nothing when the ambush occurred. Men came running out of the woods from all directions, screaming and brandishing weapons. Beneath him Athos' horse shifted nervously but it was well trained and waited for his command. As did all their mounts. The musketeers didn't wait for the men to reach them before fighting, they all drew swords and their better marksmen, Aramis among them, fired, felling several attackers before they reached them. Within moments they were all involved in close quarter fighting. Their attackers had had the upper hand thanks to their ambush but the musketeers took advantage of being mounted on well trained horses.

Athos spun his horse, letting the animal keep attackers away while he cut down the ones within reach. But after a few minutes his advantage was lost as a man with an axe managed to pull him from his horse, he fell heavily to the ground and tried to avoid the axe as it swung towards him, then Porthos was there blocking it and Athos slid his dagger into his attacker.

"Thanks," he said as Porthos gave him a hand up.

"We're outnumbered," Porthos commented with a smile as they moved back to back to fend off new attackers. Athos could see he was right, most of the Musketeers where now down in the mud, fighting in more and more isolated groups, strung along the road. Their attackers were not half as skilled as the musketeers but there did seem to be no end of men coming out of the woods.

Athos was glad to see that the captain was still mounted with two other musketeers either side of him, their attackers were paying him no special attention, perhaps not recognising the man in charge, and he was a competent fighter. A quick look for D'Artagnan found their young apprentice unmounted and off the path, down the embankment. He was not the only one down there and, given the state of his clothes, Athos was guessing he had rolled there. More alarmingly he was fighting three men alone. And there was no way he or Porthos were going to be able to help him still fighting in the middle of a circle of men.

"Aramis!" He yelled, spotting him still mounted not far away. Aramis heard him. "D'Artagnan!" he indicated.

Aramis nodded, turning his horse and spurring it down the muddy bank, it was a testament to both their skills that the pair made it down there in one piece and continued on to bulldoze through D'Artagnan's attackers.

Suddenly Aramis' horse reared, throwing Aramis to the ground. Athos was amazed to see an arrow in the animals back. Porthos had seen it too.

"Arrows?" he said, "since when does anyone use arrows?"

Aramis was evidently not injured by the fall as he stood up to fight beside D'Artagnan. Athos frowned as several more of the arrows flew through the water filled air. With the noise dampened by the rain it was difficult to work out where they were coming from, yet their infrequency suggested only one or two archers. Despite the occasional arrow, they did seem to be winning the fight. The number they were fighting was decreasing and, as Athos finally killed the irritating man he was fighting, the fact that someone was firing arrows became more worrying.

His attention was caught as from below D'Artagnan cried out, it appeared he had caught a blade across his torso and he fell to his knees. Aramis was still there though, and he killed the man that had done it before pulling D'Artagnan to his feet. The two of them had killed all their attackers too and Athos was beginning to think they may have won this fight. The all clears were coming from the other musketeers. Aramis had a word with D'Artagnan before giving Athos and Porthos a nod to say that they were fine too.

Athos saw the arrow before it hit, narrowly missing D'Artagnan and thumping into a tree behind the young man. "Aramis!" Athos yelled "D'Artagnan!" But there was no where for the two of them to go and as another arrow flew Aramis protected D'Artagnan by stepping between him and the arrows, dragging him towards the nearest tree. But the next arrow didn't miss, burying itself soundly in Aramis back and he fell against D'Artagnan. The shock on D'Artagnan's face as he realised what happened was palatable but it was Porthos shouting Aramis' name that Athos would remember later. Alongside another voice he realised was his. The two of them were about to throw themselves down the embankment to the others when the earth shook.

"Mudslide!" Athos heard a musketeer yell and, as he and Porthos froze and looked back up the hill, they could see the mass of mud heading directly for them. Men and horses were suddenly upon them, running along the road to get out of the way of the impending death. Neither he nor Porthos could bring themselves to turn from their friends and they tried to keep from being dragged along by the other musketeers. They could see D'Artagnan was trying to pull Aramis from the path of the mud, another musketeer was helping them but Athos could not tell if Aramis was alive.

Then the mudslide was upon them, he and Porthos caught the edge of it but it still dragged them over the edge of the road and down the hill. He tried to get to his feet as it pulled him along, but it was not just mud pulling him. The mud slide was bringing down trees and debris with it. Athos slammed into a tree as he fell and winced as a large branch pinned him there. He just tried to focus on staying alive as the roar of the earth moving continued around him.

It felt like ages but had likely been only minutes when he became aware the mudslide had ceased. Everything was quiet, even the rain was easing off. Then he became aware of movement around him. Looking up it appeared most of the musketeers made it clear of the mudslide and were now racing down the hillside to rescue those that hadn't. Looking beyond the tree he was wrapped around Athos could see no sign of any of his friends and a terror came upon him that he may have lost them all this day. Looking to the approaching musketeers he tried to find his voice to demand they free him but it was unnecessary as Treville had seen him and was with him in moments, indicating to the others with him to help move the branch pinning Athos.

As it was removed Athos could finally breathe properly and he let Treville pull him to his feet. He shook his limbs unable to feel much through the cold, he ached and would likely soon be black and blue, but nothing was broken.

"Are you alright?" Treville asked him, inspecting him for injuries.

"I am fine," he said distracted and he turned his attention to looking for the others. "Porthos," he said seeing two musketeers pulling him to his feet a short distance away. He shook off Treville's grip and stumbled towards Porthos desperate to see if he was well. Treville followed, just as worried about his men.

"Porthos?" Athos asked as he reached them.

"I'm fine," Porthos replied, letting the two men who had freed him pull him to his feet. Athos could see he was bleeding from a small cut on the head but saw no other obvious injury. He didn't doubt Porthos knew he was cut but they both had more important things to worry about. He reached over to pat Porthos on the shoulder, seeing his own relief reflected in Pothos' expression. They both looked around at the devastation about them. Where there had been a road through a forest was now just a muddy mess. Trees and debris had been brought down and scattered around and where D'Artagnan and Aramis had been fighting was now covered in mud of an unknown depth. Musketeers were all over the place, Athos could see several injured and a few dead but most were searching for the dozen or so that had been in the path of the mudslide.

"D'Artagnan," Porthos said, spotting him further down the slope. With a look to Treville who gave him a nod, Athos followed Porthos down to him. The rain had all but stopped but everything was covered in mud. D'Artagnan had obviously been carried a short way down by the mudslide but was not thankfully buried far in it. They slid to a stop either side of him, he was conscious and trying to extract his legs from the mud. A difficult task even if he were not injured.

"Here, D'Artagnan," Athos said stilling his struggles by grabbing his arm. Porthos began to inspect how their friend was stuck. "Are you injured?" he asked the younger man, eyes distracted by the blood on his front.

"It's only a scratch," D'Artagnan told him unconvincingly.

"And your legs?" Porthos asked.

"Just stuck," D'Artagnan informed them.

"We'll pull you out," Athos decided putting D'Artagnan's arm over his shoulder. Porthos did the same and they attempted to pull him up. It was difficult as the mud they were standing on was not yet compact and they kept sinking as they tried to free D'Artagnan from the suction holding him down. It was not helped by his involuntary grunts of pain as they stretched the obviously deep cut across his torso. After a minute or so he was free and they helped him further up and off the slippery surface of the mudslide up towards the road.

"Wait, Aramis?" D'Artagnan asked breathlessly as they dragged him up the hill. Athos met Porthos' eyes again, a quick look around the area suggested things were not looking good for Aramis. The other musketeers were crawling over the area looking for any evidence of buried musketeers, Aramis was not the only one missing, and Athos could see they were not finding anything. D'Artagnan was the last of the injured to be taken up to the road.

"They are looking for him, Porthos and I will too once you're being seen to," Athos told him.

Treville was up at the road, collecting together horses and men, barking out orders as they reached it with D'Artagnan. Rousset was there too inspecting injured musketeers, they all were adept as treating wounds but Rousset was their medic, and as they sat D'Artagnan down he came over to have a look. Athos and Porthos stood as Treville approached.

"I've sent Maurice and Gillard to the village down the hill for help," he told them, "we'll need shovels and man power dig out our men." He gave them a serious look then. They all knew it would be bodies they would be looking for.

"How many missing?" Athos asked him.

"Seven, including Aramis," he replied sadly. "Three dead and various injuries."

"Is there any chance they aren't in the mud?" Porthos asked hopefully. The idea that Aramis was buried under the mudslide was difficult to accept.

"I don't think anyone saw where everyone was when it happened," Treville replied, "we are still missing several horses, Aramis' included. Go, check the woods if you like," he gave a wave of his hand to dismiss them. "Porthos?" he said as they parted. "Don't get your hopes up, D'Artagnan was with Aramis when the mudslide came and you just pulled him from the mud."

"Come on," Athos said to Porthos, clapping him on the shoulder. He turned to where they had left D'Artagnan, "wait here," he instructed before heading back down the hill.

They went down beyond where the mudslide had ended, beyond the devastation the other musketeers were still scouring, and into the woods. They went carefully, aware that their earlier attackers could still be lingering. They inspected the ground as they went looking for any indications a musketeer had come this way, the rain may have stopped but there was little left on the ground to offer any sign.

Any hope that Aramis' horse may have aided his escape was dashed as they found the animal not far into the woods. The horse was standing, head down, obviously at a loss of what to do and it looked to them as they approached, despite their mud covered countenances he recognised them and wickered softly, coming over as Athos called him. Athos took the reins, as Porthos inspected the arrow in his flank. It was obviously painful as the animal shied when Porthos went near but didn't seem to be causing a limp and Athos was confident, once removed, the horse would recover.

Athos gave Porthos a look. They would take the horse back to the others and keep looking. Surely Aramis would be out here somewhere.

AN; Hope you enjoyed! This is the first story I've ever dared to post (or let anyone else read), but I guess you've got to start somewhere! Hopefully it's of an acceptable standard. I've already written most of the chapters so will be posting them every couple of days.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The night after the day before.

D'Artagnan sat on the road watching the activity below. Rousset had bandaged his chest but wanted to sew the deeper part of the wound back at the village where there was enough water to wash off the mud and see what he was doing. But he was fussing over other musketeers now and they were not yet ready to leave here yet. D'Artagnan had offered help but had been ordered to stay put, by Athos, by Rousset and eventually by Treville when he hadn't listen to the others. So he sat watching. His chest did hurt, a lot, but not as much as the idea that Aramis was buried under all that mud.

It had been at least an hour since the mudslide. The villagers Treville had sent for had arrived quickly and in large numbers all willing to help the musketeers, the village was after all no more than a mile away. They were now employed in digging for musketeers or clearing the road. He had seen Athos and Porthos a few times coming in and out of the woods, usually with a stray horse, each time he saw them his hope fell a bit. They were obviously not going to find Aramis there, it was becoming evident that none of the missing musketeers had made it clear of the mudslide. They would have to give up soon as it would be getting dark.

He did not have much longer to sit and wait. The sun was soon setting and in the dim light of the evening Treville called everyone to stop. They would all return to the village, the villagers were willing to put them up for the night in various homes. The horses could have dry barns to stay in and be seen to, most of the injured horses, like Aramis', had looked at and bandaged, but would likely welcome a good brush down and some food. Treville also intended to leave a guard here at the site where five musketeers were still buried. They had recovered two bodies from the mud, and had three others which were all put onto the cart that had been brought up from the village. All the remaining musketeers were capable of riding.

D'Artagnan stood as the company started to mount up and head down the road. Athos and Porthos were coming up the hill towards him.

"What about Aramis?" he asked them. How could they leave him here?

"If he is under the mud he will still be here in the morning," Athos replied wearily.

"What if he isn't?" D'Artagnan was sure Aramis could have made it out because how could be under that mud? How could the man that had so energetically saved his life this afternoon be still and cold under the earth?

"Do you believe that?" asked Athos with a growing anger. "Do you really think he could have got clear of that mudslide when you didn't? That he has miraculously survived these last hours with that arrow in his back?!"

Athos might have well punched him in the gut and D'Artagnan had no breath to reply in the face of the anger. Of course Athos blamed him, were it not for Aramis' attempts to save him he would not have been killed.

"Careful," Porthos said softly, pushing between them. Athos turned away looking anguished. D'Artagnan looked to Porthos. "Athos is right, Aramis will still be here in the morning. We'll be no help to him like this and you need to be looked at by Rousset."

He pushed D'Artagnan towards their horses and D'Artagnan let him. They mounted, Porthos giving him a leg up before mounting his horse and taking the reins of Aramis'.

"Athos?" Porthos asked, they were waiting for him. Pretty much everyone else had set off down the road. Athos turned from where he was staring across the ruined hill side where a few musketeers where making camp and mounted his horse too and the three of them set off on the road.

The ride to the village was only a mile or so but it was a somewhat painful experience for D'Artagnan. His chest hurt with every step the horse took and the grief of his two companions was palatable around him. They rode into the village and were directed into the only inn there. They let several stable boys take their horses, they would usually see to them themselves but a musketeer said Treville wanted them inside and he would see to the care of their animals.

They entered the inn and found it very busy, most of the musketeers were here getting a hot meal, the place was also full of the locals, curious about the musketeers that had invaded their village. Treville beckoned them over and D'Artagnan followed Athos and Porthos to him. He was sat at a table organising men and accommodation whilst eating some food himself. D'Artagnan could find no appetite for food but a cooked stew was being handed out. Treville greeted Athos and Porthos before turning to him.

"D'Artagnan, Rousset said you are to go upstairs when you arrive," he told him, "he is in the room at the top of the stairs."

D'Artagnan did not particularly wish to go, but Treville obviously wished to talk to the others without him.

"I'll come with you," Porthos said with a forced smile, patting him on the back. "Have you ever been sewed up before?"

"No," D'Artagnan replied dryly. He had never been so careless as to need it but he let Porthos push him in the direction of the stairs.

"You'll need this," Athos said, passing them a bottle of wine from Treville's table as they brushed past him. Porthos took it with a chuckle.

They headed up the stairs, pausing at the top.

"Here," Porthos offered him the wine. For once D'Artagnan took it and drank it eagerly, forgetting today seemed like a good plan. They entered the room and sure enough Rousset was in there. He was inspecting a wound of another musketeer but when they entered he re-bandaged it and told the man he was done and he left leaving them alone with Rousset.

"Well, let's have a look then," Rousset said, indicating for him to take his clothes off. "See if it has stopped bleeding or still needs stitches."

To D'Artagnan annoyance the wound on his chest was still bleeding when the now blood stained bandages were removed. Without his clothes on there was no mud in the way and Rousset decided that a few stitched in the middle of the long gash would likely be enough. Encouraging him to drink the wine, Rousset threaded a needle. Porthos stayed and they gave him a few minutes to drink, it did not take much, he had eaten little since breakfast. Still the few stitches Rousset put in were excruciatingly painful, it took all of his energy to lay still and not scream, but Rousset was experienced and it did not take long until he was bandaging the wound and D'Artagnan was being told to relax. That was not difficult as all he wished to do was close his eyes and sleep. Before he was allowed to do so he was aware of Porthos pulling him to his feet, they walked a short way before he was put on another bed and someone pulled off his boots. He came to the conclusion that they had changed room but before he could think about why he had drifted off.

When he woke up it was still dark. The room he was in had a couple of candles lit and he could see several beds, a door on one side and a shuttered window on the other. As far as he could tell none of the beds were occupied. He shifted and stretched, the cut was still painful but more of a dull pain than the sharp one of before. He still had a pleasant buzz from the wine so he guess he had not been out more than a few hours and he could still hear the faint sounds of people in the inn below. He tensed as he heard someone in the room and turned his head to see Athos sat on a chair near the door.

"How's your wound?" Athos asked, drinking from a glass he had brought up.

"Better," D'Artagnan replied, groaning as he pushed himself upright swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"I brought you some food," Athos indicated beside the bed where a plate of bread and cheese sat. "It's late and hot food is long gone."

"Thanks," D'Artagnan replied, picking it up and tucking in, his appetite had returned.

"I don't blame you for Aramis," Athos said off hand, standing up.

D'Artagnan didn't meet his gaze, "if it were not for me he would not have been injured."

"We don't know that," Athos replied, downing what was left of his wine. "Aramis would have done the same for all of us, and any of us would have done so for him."

"But it wasn't any of you," D'Artagnan disagreed. "It was me."

"You are no less worth it than anyone else," Athos said extinguishing the candle nearest him, he then lay down on one of the beds, on top of the blankets, and crossed his arms beneath his head.

"I'm not a musketeer."

"You will be," was the reply. "Don't belittle what Aramis did by being anything less."

D'Artagnan hadn't thought of it that way, that Aramis would gladly give his life for any of them. He wasn't sure it really made the loss any easier. He finished the bread and cheese and settled back down on the bed, putting out the candle nearest him. Porthos came in the room not long after with a candle that went out once he found a bed. D'Artagnan slept and didn't notice anyone else come in though there was a fourth and empty bed.

AN; Thanks so much for the amazing reviews! All very kind and it's encouraged me to get up this chapter, not sure it answers any questions but there is more to come, perhaps after the new episode!


	3. Chapter 3

AN; as promised the next chapter! Loved the episode, so good! As I suspected things changed in tonights episodes so, given that D'Artagnan is not a musketeer in this story, I think it is safe to say this is set before it (possibly even before the last scene of the last episode). Enjoy!

Chapter 3: A dark morning dawns

D'Artagnan woke the next morning when Porthos gave him a shake. The shutter had been opened and faint predawn light could be seen outside.

"Rise and shine," Porthos told him. He sat up reached for his boots that were beside the bed. The wound on his chest pulled painfully but it felt better than the day before.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they all put on muddy boots, coats and weapons.

"Back to Paris," Athos replied.

"What?" D'Artagnan said surprised, he thought there would be more to do here, figuring out yesterdays ambush. "Why?"

"The duke of Deverell came to the inn last night," Athos said. "He has agreed to come back to speak to the king about the ambush on his land yesterday, as well as other matters that he had been wanting the king's attention for."

"Why would he be involved? Surely he had nothing to do with Musketeers being attacked on the road?" D'Artagnan said, slowly thinking it through. Before him Athos and Porthos shared a look. "The king…" he looked back to his companions in shock, "the king was supposed to be with us yesterday…"

"If whoever attacked us knew that," Porthos continued. "Then they were trying to commit treason."

"The duke and his men are the best placed to answer questions about who might be attacking people on his land," Athos said, "so we are to escort them back to Paris."

Now fully dressed D'Artagnan followed the others from the room.

"What about Aramis and the other musketeers in the mudslide?" he asked as they headed down the stairs.

"Maurice and four others are staying, the villagers will help them recover the bodies and restore the road," Athos replied.

Downstairs in the inn was already busy, Treville was directing men again and speaking to a dark haired middle aged man D'Artagnan didn't recognise but by his clothing he guessed was the duke. Bread, cheese and ale was available on the table and the three of them took some for breakfast.

"Don't you…" D'Artagnan glanced at the others around them uneasily. "Don't you want to stay?"

Athos and Porthos looked away and he could tell they were torn between staying to find Aramis and an awareness of the futility of doing so.

"We have our orders," Porthos said at length. "What good would staying do to find a body? They will bring Aramis back when they find him."

With look to Athos, D'Artagnan could tell he agreed. He wondered whether he wished to stay either, he did not want to go back to the place of the mudslide, he did not wish to relive it again but the idea of returning to Paris without Aramis weighted on him.

They finished their breakfast and when Treville rose to leave they all followed. The sun was only just peaking above the horizon as they came out of the inn, the sky was clear and the air crisp, the rain of the last few days had evidently left. The horses had already been prepared and were waiting for them outside. Ten of them were travelling with the duke and his men intending to travel at full speed back to Paris. Six more men would be accompanying the slower moving cart they had put the five bodies they had already recovered in and five others would remain to find the other bodies and return them to Paris.

Unwilling to pull his stitches D'Artagnan took his horse over to the villages' mounting block and got on. The seat was familiar and comfortable and his horse felt rested and ready to go. They travelled fast, maintaining a slow canter for as long as they could manage. It was a long morning, they did not stop before lunch only letting the horses slow to a walk every now and again to have a break. They reached a large inn around midday and stopped for lunch. D'Artagnan was feeling quite sore by this time, his injury was a constant source of pain as they rode but he could tell he wasn't bleeding so he tried to ignore it.

The duke of Deverell was obviously having a hard time with the pace. Treville was constantly demanding he speed up, but D'Artagnan guessed the duke rarely rode so far or fast, in comparison to the musketeers and their horses who had little difficulty with such a hard ride.

They stayed at the inn only long enough for a hot meal and for the horses to have a rest before getting on the road again. They were forced to stop several times in the afternoon by Deverell and, though Athos and Porthos found it tedious, D'Artagnan didn't mind as he was aching more and more as the day went on. They arrived in Paris after dark and Treville escorted the duke of Deverell to accommodation for the night leaving the musketeers to return to the barracks.

They trotted into the courtyard and dismounted. D'Artagnan couldn't help groaning as he swung to the ground, he ached, his wound stinging across his front and he was exhausted.

"Are you alright?" Athos asked as they let the stable hands come and take their horses.

"Just sore," he replied. Athos nodded before turning and heading for his quarters.

"What now?" D'Artagnan asked Porthos as he past him too. Porthos stopped, turning to the younger man.

"We drink to fallen friends," he said simply. "It's what we do after we have lost someone, Athos will undoubtedly drink himself into a stupor and for once I intend to join him. Are you coming?"

"Yes," D'Artagnan replied, before looking down at his dirty clothes, which had a large cut across the front, "but I need to go and clean up first."

Porthos nodded and turned and left in the same direction as Athos, presumably to clean up himself. D'Artagnan headed back to the room he rented, he didn't have a lot of clothes but a clean set would be welcome. A kind request to Constance would hopefully get his current set washed on her next laundry day.

As he walked the familiar route back to home he couldn't help wishing that they had never accompanied Treville on this trip. Then Aramis would not have died protecting him. Or perhaps fate was simpler, perhaps if he had not fallen from the road or taken a slash across his chest Aramis would not needed to have protected him. Was this to be his life now? Loosing those he cared for?

He had felt such anger when he lost his father but he had channelled that into finding his father's killer. And when he had killed him he had found a new path amongst the musketeers, a new family and a new purpose. But now he was training to be a soldier. Perhaps he should get used to people dying. But not for him, he shouldn't be the reason they died. He could not get the image of Aramis' shocked face when he was hit out of his mind, and he wondered if he ever would. Or if he really wanted to.

He arrived back at the house, though it was dark the door was not yet bolted and he entered. He couldn't hear anyone around so he went upstairs to his room. He stood in the doorway. It looked just as he had left it a few days ago.

He heard someone coming along the corridor. It was Constance.

"I thought I heard you come in," she said as she approached. He turned to face her and realised how bad he must look from the expression that appeared on her face. "What happened?"

He wanted to tell her that it was just a scratch, that he was covered in mud thanks to the rain, that he looked exhausted simply because they had ridden hard. Then he realised he would have to tell her about Aramis and suddenly he could get no words out at all, he looked away feeling tears in his eyes.

"D'Artagnan?" she asked worried, coming closer, "what has happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he managed to get out, almost sounding normal.

"You're hurt," she said reaching out to touch his bandaged chest before looking at the rest of him, "and a mess."

"It's just a scratch, that's not…" he didn't finish, looking down and taking her hand to push it away from the cut. The bandages were filthy, he probably needed new ones.

"It doesn't look like a scratch," she argued.

"Constance," he said frustrated.

"What then?" she said shortly, stepping back. But she was obviously worried about him. "D'Artagnan, what's happened? Is it the musketeers?"

"We were attacked on the road," he told her. "Aramis…"

"What?" she said breathlessly as he didn't continue. He knew she was so often annoyed by the musketeers antics but she was very fond of him and by extension the men that had taken him under their wing.

"He was killed," there he had said it, for the first time admitting out loud that Aramis was dead.

"What?" she said, disbelievingly.

"We were attacked, he was killed."

"But how? They are musketeers, the king's men, I know of none that fight so well…" she replied, shocked and upset.

"We were fighting a lot of men, Aramis was shot at," D'Artagnan turned and walked into his room. But if he was trying to dismiss the conversation Constance was having none of it.

"Surely Athos and Porthos wouldn't let it happen, I thought musketeers protected each other as well at the king!" she said following him into the room.

"He was protecting me! Alright!?" D'Artagnan turned to her and shouted. The shock on her face quietened him. "Aramis died protecting me. Because of me he is dead."

"D'Artagnan," she said as he trailed off, "D'Artagnan, I'm sorry."

He turned away from her again, looking out of the window, he could see burning torches lighting the street and people going about their business, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.

"I don't understand why he did it," he told her what had been bothering him. "Or how I could have let it happen…"

"He was a musketeer," Constance surprised him as he felt her hands on his back. "It's what he was supposed to do."

He turned round to face her, "I'm not a musketeer."

"You were his friend," she argued with tears in her eyes. "You told me that before, you are loyal to one another. Would you have done the same for him?"

"Yes," he replied without any hesitation.

"Then you cannot be confused if he does the same for you."

"I wish it hadn't happened."

"As do I," she said and they both paused. D'Artagnan hand came up to hold hers which had once again found their way onto his chest. They looked down at their joined hands.

After a moment Constance cleared her throat and stepped back.

"I should let you get out of your muddy clothes," she said intending to leave. He nodded.

"Wait," he changed his mind. "The bandage on my chest, I don't suppose you could help me change it?"

"D'Artagnan…" she said hesitatingly.

"It's just I can't really do it by myself," he pointed out.

"Alright," she acquiesced. He took off his coat and sat on the bed where she helped him remove his shirt. "I suppose you'll want these clothes washing," she said teasingly.

"I…" he looked at her worried and she smiled slightly at him, he gave one back. "If it's not too much trouble."

"I'll have to talk to my husband about increasing your rates if you are always going to weadle washing out of me," she said with a smile.

They removed his bandages and D'Artagnan hoped the injury wasn't too much of a shock to her. She left the room as soon as she saw it to get a clean cloth to be used as a bandage, and if it bothered her he couldn't tell as she was fully composed when she returned. She brought back a bucket of water too and the injury was quickly cleaned and covered and Constance stood to leave.

"When is the funeral?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied after a moment. "He… There was a mudslide where we were fighting, he was buried and they are still digging out the bodies so I don't know when he will be returned to the city."

"Oh," she said, surprised at such a tale. "I'd like to be there, when it happens."

He nodded, promising to tell her when it was organised and she left the room so he could get into clean clothes. He used the water to wash off mud that was still on his body and dressed in some other clothes. He had no other coat as good as the dirty one, but it was a warm spring evening and he could probably manage with his other one. He took the dirty clothes downstairs leaving them in Constance's washing pile before telling her he was off out in case she was making him any food. He left to join the others getting a drink, he had no desire to get drunk but he also didn't want to go to bed just yet. Besides if Athos and Porthos were going to get very drunk they would need someone to look out for them, Aramis wouldn't be around to do it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The king's word.

Porthos groaned as he woke up, his head was pounding from last nights drinking, sunlight streaming through his window. He was, to his surprise, actually in his own bed. He had a vague memory of someone helping him back here last night. Probably D'Artagnan but he wasn't sure. He lay there for a minute, often Aramis or Athos would bang on his door in the morning to wake him or he on theirs depending on who was awake first. Athos would be too drunk to knock, not for the first time, and Aramis… his stomach fell. Perhaps he could just imagine that Aramis was out laying in some ladies bed somewhere. Except he wasn't. He was cold and dead, likely being returned to Paris for burial. The thought hurt, Aramis and Athos and now D'Artagnan were all he had in this world, he didn't come from a happy family but he had made one among the musketeers and he didn't want to loose it.

He rolled over with a wince, he was bruised and battered after yesterday's mudslide and though he hadn't noticed yesterday it was certainly obvious this morning. He wished yesterday hadn't happened. Or that things had happened differently. And what had happened he wondered? They didn't actually know why they were attacked or why the missing musketeers had died. Hopefully the answers lay with Deverell and not back on that hillside. He and Athos had wanted to stay, to find Aramis one way or another, but Treville had ordered them to return with him to Paris. Porthos had shared a look with Athos and knew they were both going to disobey the order, Treville had seen the look too and had instead offered them the opportunity to find the men who had attacked them, if they followed his order. He and Athos had discussed it at length whilst D'Artagnan had been asleep upstairs. They had eventually agreed the benefits of hearing what Deverell knew outweighed the usefulness of remaining, that Aramis would want them to track down their attackers. Porthos desperately hoped they had chosen correctly.

He lay thinking for a while. Given how much sun was coming through the window Porthos assumed it was not particularly early and he probably ought to report for duty. He rolled out of bed, washed and put on some clothes and headed to the courtyard for some breakfast. Many of the musketeers had been drinking last night and the courtyard was full of people having a late breakfast. They quietened as he joined them aware that he was close to the missing Aramis, he ignored them, eating his food.

"Porthos," Treville called him as he entered the courtyard. Porthos stood quickly finishing his drink but happily leaving the rest of his food, he wasn't hungry. He followed Treville up to his office. "Where's Athos?"

"Still abed I imagine," Porthos replied honestly as they entered the office.

"I've arranged the funerals for the five men we have brought back for midday," Treville told him he went behind his desk. "Messengers have gone out to their families and friends and all the musketeers will be made available to attend."

"That's good," Porthos nodded slowly.

"I reported to the king this morning and he has summoned Deverell for an audience this afternoon," he went on, "I will go and you and Athos will accompany me."

"And D'Artagnan?" Porthos asked automatically.

"And D'Artagnan," Treville sighed. He sat down heavily. "About Aramis…"

"What about him?" Porthos asked, sorrow returning full force.

"I'm sorry, he was a good man, a good soldier," Treville said carefully. "I will miss him."

"Thank you sir," Porthos replied, glad for the sentiment but he said nothing else, not wanting to have this conversation. He avoided Treville's eyes and was grateful he didn't say more.

"You probably ought to rouse Athos and locate your stray," Treville said in a slightly lighter tone, changing the subject.

"Yes sir,' he gave a small forced smile.

"Dismissed," Treville said suddenly formal, waving at Porthos to leave.

Porthos duly left, he went back to the quarters again. He reached Athos' door and thumped on it.

"Yes?" came the reply after a moment.

"Time to get up, apparently we have duties," Porthos told him dryly. "Also you'll miss breakfast."

He doubted Athos wanted breakfast. The three of them were notorious for eating vasts amount of food when in a happy mood, but Porthos knew neither Athos, Aramis nor himself could eat much when they weren't.

"I'll be there shortly," Athos replied, irritated.

Porthos left, not at all perturbed at the attitude. He returned to the courtyard glad to find D'Artagnan had arrived.

"Morning," he said as he sat beside the younger man.

"Morning," D'Artagnan replied and Porthos proceeded to tell him the plans for the day. Athos joined them shortly after looking refreshed and awake in a way Porthos was never able to after drinking so much. Though Athos downed a glass of wine as he sat and Porthos wondered if his trick was not to stop.

They did very little for what was left of the morning. Athos and D'Artagnan fenced as they often did but Athos soon stopped as he was worried of further injuring him. Porthos soon grew restless challenged a few musketeers to wrestle, he was known for being one of the best wrestlers among the musketeers and soon proved it against his opponents. As it grew close to the time for the funerals Porthos and Athos collected their cleaned jackets from the valet and changed. The stable boys were readying five separate carts for hearses and soon the coffins were brought out and placed on them. The courtyard was busy, there were a lot of musketeers arrived from their duties to attend the funerals as well as civilians who were families of the fallen.

The procession soon started through the streets of Paris, the five hearses leading the way. The bells of churches they past rang out and people on the streets stopped to pay their respects. The arrived at the cemetery on the outskirts of the city, the honourable resting place of the king's guard. The sun was high in the sky but the weather was not too hot, a cool breeze coming past them.

Porthos stood beside Athos and D'Artagnan, one among a large crowd watching his comrades being buried. Not all of the men had families here to see the burials but the ones that did were beside the coffins crying. He had not known any of the men overly well but there were men there besides the graves who were musketeers that had lost very close friends. As he had. He dreaded that he would have to come back here and do this for Aramis and wondered if it was true. Did he really believe that Aramis was dead? How could he until he had proof? He knew until the moment he saw Aramis' body he would not be convinced, until he stood here to bury Aramis he would not believe it possible.

The funerals did not last long and soon the crowds were dispersing, the empty hearses heading back to the stables. The three of them had a quick lunch before accompanying Treville to the palace to attend Deverell's meeting with the King. Hopefully they would get some answers about the ambush.

They entered the palace and waited in one of the king's grand halls. Cardinal Richelieu soon appeared looking his customary shifty self and Treville gave him a quick greeting. The cardinal looked like he wished to talk to Treville but he was prevented from doing so by the arrival of the king and queen and their entourage, they bowed.

"Treville," King Louis said as he approached his trusted advisor.

Porthos was distracted from whatever the king had to say to Treville by Queen Anne approaching him. He, Athos and D'Artagnan bowed again as she stood before them.

"Porthos isn't it?" she asked him. He rose, slowly daring to meet her gaze, Aramis was much better at this than him.

"Yes, your majesty," he replied.

"I hear Aramis was among the fallen," she commented sounding saddened.

"He was," Porthos confirmed. He shouldn't be surprised by her concern he told himself, it was the effect Aramis had on women.

"Yet he was not buried today."

"No, his body has not yet been recovered from the mudslide," part of him wondered how much Treville would like him sharing with the queen.

"Oh," Porthos could have sworn she looked taken aback by that but it did not last; she was the queen, a woman very adept interacting with people. "You all have my deepest sympathies," she looked then to Athos and D'Artagnan too.

"Thank you your majesty," they bowed again as she left to join her husband. They were taking seats on the thrones.

"Was that what I think it was?" Athos asked him quietly as they took their places out of the way along one of the walls. Deverell was yet to arrive.

"It's Aramis, what do you think?" Porthos replied, Aramis' romancing was well known among the musketeers. Surely Athos could not be surprised.

"What was he thinking?" Athos continued. "She's the queen!"

"I don't think he was thinking," Porthos smiled. "At least not with his head."

"Aramis and the queen?" D'Artagnan asked not particularly quietly and Porthos gave him a look.

"No, there was no Aramis and the queen, don't be ridiculous," he said almost whispering.

"But then what do you mean?"

"Nothing, there was nothing," Porthos paused. "Except he gave her the look and then she was all worried about him. Apparently she still is."

Both his companions knew exactly what the look was, they had seen Aramis deploy it before.

"Well I don't suppose it matters now," Athos said and they were saved from further conversation on the matter by the arrival of the duke of Deverell.

He entered the hall at the far end with the four men who had ridden with him the day before and approached the king and queen and bowed deeply.

"Your majesty," he said as he was indicated to rise. "Allow me to apologise for the attack your men suffered while travelling in my lands and express my deepest sympathies for the loss of life."

"Very polite but perhaps you could tell us who attacked my musketeers?" Louis asked him, obviously unimpressed.

"I do not know who attacked them," Deverell looked aghast at the question.

"The king was supposed to be travelling on that road with those musketeers," Richelieu said stepping forwards from his place beside the Louis. "If the attackers believed he was there then they were committing treason!"

"I assure you I did not know of the attack nor who committed it," Deverell continued.

"Yet you understand that this cannot be so easily dismissed?" King Louis pointed out. "Whether or not the attackers in your province intended to kill me, Treville is obviously very upset that they did kill his musketeers. He would like to know who did so. I'd like you to tell him."

"Surely as the duke you should have some idea of what is going on within your lands?" the cardinal asked him. He had got somewhat closer to Deverell and was somewhat taller. Porthos imagined he was probably quite intimidating to a duke who did not attend court. "Perhaps when the king stripped your brother of his title and granted you his lands he made a mistake?"

"As I was trying to show his majesty I have made several innovations is agriculture…"

"Yes, yes, I have read your letters, I'm sure it would have been very impressive to see," the king said, "had I attended, however, I would have been attacked."

"I…" Deverell glanced back to one of the men accompanying him. "There have been several incidents, attacks, far from where your men were attacked your majesty."

"What kind of incidents?" Richelieu narrowed his eyes at the man before him.

"Nothing of the same scale as the attack on the musketeers, just robbery and the like, up in the hills to the east of my lands. The duke of Burdett has told me they have been seen coming down from the hills into his lands also," Deverell explained.

"Why did you not mention this before?" Captain Treville chipped in, stepping forward.

"There is a possibility that the attacks are being lead by my brother," he admitted.

"Your brother?" the king said. "He was banished from France."

Porthos frowned, he vaguely remembered this story. The previous duke had betrayed the king, thought he knew not how. In response king Louis had stripped him of his title and lands and banished him from France. His brother had been allowed to inherit, now the current duke of Deverell. The brother would have been escorted from France, evidently he was believed to have returned.

"This last year or so my men have heard rumours of his return your majesty. I did not believe them, some men hiding out in the woods and committing robbery is not like my brother, attacking your musketeers on the other hand…" Deverell looked down in shame. Porthos guessed he had long been working to get over the bad name of his brother.

"I gave you a chance once, Deverell," King Louis said rising from his throne and coming down from the dais. Everyone automatically bowed slightly. "Allowing you to keep your father's title when your brother was disgraced, do you suppose I should again?"

"Your majesty…"

"What do you think Cardinal?" the king asked.

"The duke has made some impressive innovations sire," the Cardinal offered. "It would be a shame to forget that."

"I agree."

"But a duke that does not control his lands…" Porthos didn't think Richelieu could become more intimidating yet he did, he almost smiled at the terror on Deverell's face.

"If your majesty would give me another chance I will return and bring whomever hides out in the mountains to you," Deverell all but begged.

The king appeared to think about it for a moment, "Treville? What do you think?"

"I only wish to catch whoever attacked and killed my musketeers your majesty," Treville replied. The king glanced at the cardinal who gave a slight nod.

"Very well then," Louis decided with a wave of his hand, he turned are sat back on his throne. "Bring here the men that attacked the musketeers and all will be forgiven. Treville you may wish to accompany the duke and ensure he finds these men before my patience runs out."

"Thank you your majesty," Deverell suddenly looked relieved.

He was dismissed and left the hall with his men.

"Cardinal, you were the one that suggested I exile one brother and give the other his land," the King said after Deverell was gone. "I am beginning to believe that was not the wisest idea."

"Your majesty maybe right," Richelieu conceded, "but I maintain that keeping the land within the family was the best choice and Deverell's ability to farm is very useful, should we ever have the opportunity to see what he has done I think the whole of France will benefit from the innovations."

"Well if you say so cardinal. Treville you have my permission to take your men and find these outlaws," the king dismissed them then and they bowed before leaving the palace.

AN: Want to say thanks again for the supportive reviews! They do encourage me to keep posting! There is lots of worry for Aramis, and I'll just say that we start to get to the bottom of what and why over the next few chapters :-D


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: A great inconvenience.

Cardinal Richelieu returned to his offices after the meeting with Deverell and the king. He was very irritated. Why could nothing ever go smoothly? He had facilitated Drago's return to France not so he could go running after his previous title of the duke of Deverell but as a man that might have some use. Sure he had dangled the promise of restoring him to the title as a reward but he had told the man so often that it would take time. And now he had carved out corner somewhere in the hills of his brother's province and filled it with his outlaws. The same thirst for power that Richelieu had thought might be of use was now out of control, he had no use for a man that would commit treason. That was not his plan.

He had not sat long before Drago's messenger finally arrived, he had expected him yesterday. Another demonstration of the incompetence he was dealing with.

"Cardinal," the small man greeted giving a slight bow. Richelieu couldn't help curl his nose at him he had obviously ridden far and looked and smelled the part.

"And who are you?" he asked rising from his seat and coming round the desk.

"Dix sir, Drago's man," the man said, as though surprised the cardinal did not know of him.

The cardinal raised and eyebrow at him, "and?"

"And what sir?" Dix frowned.

"Can you explain to me what on earth Drago thinks he is doing?" Richelieu asked letting out his anger. "What could possess him to attack the king's men?"

"Drago is getting frustrated. We sit in the hills waiting for moments we can get revenge on Deverell and Drago thought if he demonstrated he could not keep his lands safe then the king would be most displeased," Dix explained.

"Is that all he intended to do?" Richelieu was not convinced. "Scare the king? That landslide killed a good few musketeers."

"Well, when we saw they were just musketeers there was no reason not to kill them all."

"That is quite beyond anything I can condone," he replied. Admittedly the loss of musketeers did not bother him, it was a bonus really, but it would attract all too much attention. The musketeers were like dogs, loyal and persistent, give them a bone and they would not let go of it.

"If you would do something to get Drago back his position..."

"I cannot just turn an exiled man back into a duke!" the cardinal let the full force of his anger through and took pleasure at Dix's flinch. "I told Drago that when I offered him my help!"

"Yet your help has been few and far between," Dix was not as cowed as Richelieu hoped. "You cannot be angry when he makes our presence known!"

"I am angry, he cannot go around attacking the king and hope that it will achieve what he wants!"

"Drago hates the king, but what does it matter? The musketeer says the king is not coming anyway so what damage can Drago do?"

Richelieu froze, "What musketeer?"

"Drago took one back to the castle," Dix replied as though it was perfectly normal. Were he at all violent Richelieu could have strangled him.

"You have a musketeer as a prisoner?" he asked carefully.

"Er...Yes."

"Do you realise what that will do?" he turned away from the idiot man, pacing.

"What it will do?" Dix repeated.

"Of course you don't," he muttered before turning back. "The musketeers will search for a missing man. The captain of the musketeers himself is going with Deverell to search for whoever attacked the musketeers on the road."

"They won't find us, Drago knows those hills he knows how to keep us hidden and the villages around there are all on our side," Dix defended.

"You had better be right," the cardinal told him. "I cannot afford for anyone to find out about our little arrangement."

"They won't, Drago pledged that to you," Dix promised, obviously aware of how important their arrangement was to his master. "We'll make sure this search party finds nothing, you need not worry about Drago."

Richelieu stared at him for a long while, there was more that he could say, more orders he could give. But to what end? This relationship was over, Drago had become a liability.

"Fine," he said to Dix, "get out of here, report back to your master."

"Yes sir," Dix said offering the slightest bow again before scurrying from the room.

He watched him go before speaking.

"Did you hear that?" he said to the empty room. Immediately the side door opened and Milady appeared.

"Of course," she said with a smile as she played with a short knife. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Another arrangement about to come to an end?" she asked approaching him.

He almost smiled, she knew him well.

"It appears Drago has outlived his usefulness," told her.

"He wouldn't be a better duke than his brother?" she asked sitting on the edge of the desk.

"He might be more loyal to me but his brother's innovations in farming I believe will be of much greater benefit to France than anything Drago could do," he walked around the desk to sit down. "Not to mention the impossibility of returning him to a title when the king dislikes him so."

"You let him believe you could do so," Milady said somehow turning it into an accusing question, she turned in her seat on the desk to face him.

"He has been useful on occasion over the last couple of years," he admitted reluctantly, "but in attacking the king's men he had drawn all too much attention to himself. And as much as I like to think the musketeers are superfluous to requirement they will undoubtedly track down Drago simply because he attacked them."

"I see," she said and he didn't doubt she did indeed see all.

"I need you to follow Dix back to his master and make sure no one that knows of the arrangement I have with Drago lives to meet the musketeers," he laid it out simply enough. There was no question she was the most intelligent of the creatures he had but he had learnt that ambiguity could lead to misunderstandings.

"And Drago?" she asked as she stood.

"Especially Drago, he overstepped the mark," he replied, he would be glad when the man was gone, this was all too much of a mess.

Milady smiled again as she left the room.

AN: a slightly shorter chapter but it's always good to check in with the bad guys right?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: South once again.

They had returned to the courtyard after the meeting with the king. Treville had soon decided who would accompany him back to the duke's land to search for the men Deverell believed had attacked them. Porthos was glad he, Athos and D'Artagnan were automatically included but Treville could not take such a large number of men as any of them would like to. Most of the musketeers had regular duties protecting the king and training so there would likely not be many more than a group of thirty, similar to the one that had ridden there before. Deverell did, like most dukes, have a regiment of men available and, when asked, was willing for Captain Treville to utilise them. To their great irritation it appeared he had no intention of rushing back to his lands, instead requesting another audience with the king to describe the innovations he had made in farming. Unfortunately it was already late afternoon and the king would not see him until at least the next morning.

"Perhaps we could ride ahead of Deverell?" Porthos suggested when Treville called them into his office that afternoon to inform them of this.

"Unfortunately not, we need Deverell and the men he has with him to track down this group. The king says we are to work with him, not do it ourselves," Treville replied, obviously irritated.

"Then we will not be leaving Paris for at least another day?" Athos stated.

"It would appear not," Treville answered.

"The three of us could ride ahead and begin the search," D'Artagnan offered.

"No," Treville dismissed quickly. "Most of the day is already gone, you have waited this long you can wait until the morning." He waved them out of the office, not wishing to argue further.

They left and sat at the table in the courtyard.

"This feels so pointless," Porthos said angrily, "we sit here with nothing to do when we should be out tracking down the people that killed Aramis."

"I agree," Athos replied. "But we have our orders."

"I don't care how long it takes I am going to find the people that did this and bring them to justice, that's a promise," Porthos said. To his surprise it was D'Artagnan that echoed his sentiment first.

"And I'll join you," he said raising a glass. They looked to Athos who didn't hesitate.

"For Aramis," Athos offered raising a glass.

"For Aramis!" Porthos and D'Artagnan replied.

They drank in silence for a minute or two.

"How far do you think we would get?" Porthos asked lightly.

"With no idea where the men we are chasing could have gone?" Athos replied rhetorically. "Not far."

"But we do know where they have gone," D'Artagnan disagreed. "Deverell said they are in the hills in the east of his lands."

"Hmm, the Beaufort hills," Porthos had heard of them though he had not been there.

"Do you know of these hills?" Athos asked D'Artagnan with a raised eyebrow, Porthos knew Athos had been to them on an assignment before.

"No," D'Artagnan replied with a glance to Porthos. Porthos just gave him an amused smile.

"They are extensive, wild and populated with hamlets and villages of farmers who never seek the rest of the world," Athos informed them. "A man could ride into them and spend a week trying to get out."

"A good place to hide then," D'Artagnan commented.

"Yes, a perfect place to hide," Athos agreed with a sigh.

"You know the hills, the villages and roads in them" Porthos beseeched him. "If these men, these outlaws, are there causing a fuss we could easily track them down."

"It would be easier with Deverell's men," Athos shook his head and Porthos knew he was failing to convince him to leave. "They know the land and the hills and know who to look for."

"And how long do we wait for them?" Porthos replied angrily. "How long do we wait here doing nothing?"

Athos thought for a moment, looking into his empty glass. "We'll wait until tomorrow," he finally replied, "as Treville asks. Then, whatever the duke's plan, we'll ride out. Agreed?"

Porthos held Athos' gaze, but he knew Athos was not to be moved on this. "Fine."

Athos looked to D'Artagnan too and D'Artagnan gave a reluctant nod.

Whilst the decision made Porthos feel there was a plan, nothing happened for the rest of the day. They duly went out to get drunk that evening, after all they wouldn't be going anywhere bright and early in the morning since they had to wait for the duke. Porthos managed to express his frustration by get into a brawl or two through his gambling or, more precisely, his cheating. It was all the more impressive that he managed to get Athos to join in.

He woke the next morning in much the same way as the previous day though this time it was Athos knocking on his door. They had breakfast and then, with Treville visiting the duke and the king, they tried to distract themselves for an hour or two by going for a ride with some new recruits. Porthos was pretty sure their recruit's instructor only intended to get them more familiar with their mounts but with the older musketeers accompanying them they ended up having a shooting competition half way through. It did not really help Porthos' spirit however, as with every shot he saw he thought that Aramis could have done better.

They arrived back at around mid morning and had just dismounted when they saw Treville and Maurice coming out of the building across the yard. Maurice was the musketeer that had been tasked with finding the bodies in the mudslide.

"Athos, Porthos, D'Artagnan, my office," Treville said as he past them with Maurice and headed up to the office himself. They followed, entering the office behind Treville and greeted Maurice as Treville sat behind his desk.

"Have you brought the musketeers back for burial?" Athos asked him and Porthos was glad he didn't have to.

Maurice glanced over to Treville who nodded for him to continue, "I have brought back three bodies. Aramis is not among them."

"Why return if you have not recovered everyone?" D'Artagnan asked as confused as Porthos was.

"I think we have recovered everyone that we are going to," Maurice replied.

"Surely you would not leave Aramis buried beneath the mud?" Athos said and Porthos could tell he was barely containing his anger. "Should you not dig until you have found everyone?"

"The villagers have graciously helped us dig for bodies for near two days, we cannot ask them for more. The road is repaired and we found no bodies yesterday, all those we recovered we did so on the first morning. I do not think the bodies of Aramis, or the other missing man, Gill, are in the mud," Maurice explained.

"How can that be?" Porthos asked, was it possible Aramis had not been buried alive?

"You found D'Artagnan not far from where they were when the mudslide came and we found the body of Perrin, the man who aided Aramis and D'Artagnan, buried in the mud close by. If Aramis was there we would have found him."

"And what of the other man? Gill?" Athos asked. "Aramis was injured, could he have aided him?"

"I doubt it," Maurice disagreed. "The men fighting with him said he had injured his leg, nor was he close to where Aramis was when the mud came."

"And why would he have done so? Where would they have gone?" Porthos pointed out.

"There were no missing horses," Maurice commented, "and we checked the area throughly, they did not escape the mudslide to die in the forest."

"Could Gill have been in league with our attackers?" Athos asked thoughtfully. Porthos made no comment, accusing their comrades of such things was not the done thing but there was a need for it here.

Treville sat forwards, finally having something to say, "I have considered that, Maurice and I have just come from asking the men closest to Gill. He is from the north and has never before been south to Deverell's land there is no reason to believe he has been taken willingly."

"Then you believe they were taken," Athos confirmed.

"It appears that is the only other option," Treville admitted. "The only way Aramis and Gill could have disappeared so fast is on horse back and they did not do so on our horses which only leave the enemies."

"Why take them?" Porthos asked.

"Well there is a question," Treville said, sitting back again.

Porthos met Athos' gaze, could it be that Aramis was alive?

"We both saw where that arrow hit," Athos pointed out, apparently reading Porthos' mind. D'Artagnan too knew what they were thinking.

"He was alive," he said hopefully. "When the mudslide was coming he was alive."

Porthos looked at the younger man. "Do you remember what happened? Could someone have taken

him?"

"I don't remember, it all happened so fast," D'Artagnan said looking away as he relived the day again. "He wasn't with me when the mudslide came, I assumed Perrin had taken him, I wasn't able to help enough. But where they went…"D'Artagnan looked back to them.

"Then he was taken," Athos accepted. "But we cannot assume he is alive," he continued solemnly, looking to Porthos and Porthos knew he was looking for agreement but he could not give it. He could not say Aramis was dead when they had just been given news that he may not be, he would hope and he would let Athos hope too.

"Until we have their bodes we cannot assume he and Gill are dead either," Treville said standing up. "Thank you Maurice," he said dismissing the other man, once he left he turned to the three of them. "I'm not waiting for Deverell's leisure to find them. You are to go and track down who took them and bring back our missing musketeers, dead or alive. I will take the others and accompany Deverell in the search of the outlaws."

"Surely we will be hunting the same men?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Most likely," Treville agreed. "Once you find them you will know where to find me to direct our attack but the longer we remain in Paris the less likely we will find our men."

"Thank you sir," Porthos said unable to stop a smile, finally they would be doing something.

"Go," Treville said. "Go, find Aramis and bring him back."

They nodded to Treville and left his office, quickly heading to the stables to ready their horses. In the stall next to Porthos' horse stood Aramis' horse obviously confused that he was not going out with them. Porthos gave him a pat.

"Don't worry boy, we'll find him," he told the animal, not that it seemed to mollify him as they left the stable. Within a quarter of an hour of the order the three of them had got all their kit together and were heading out of the courtyard and once again going south.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: So I think this is the chapter a lot of people have been waiting for! I just want to say thanks very much for the reviews, you have all been very kind and supportive. I didn't know what to expect since this is the first time I have done this but your encouragement has kept me posting chapters and there is lots more to come! Enjoy!

Chapter 7: The lost musketeer.

The first time Aramis was actually aware of being awake he found himself laying in a small bed in a small room. He had vague memories of being here for sometime but he couldn't quite figure out why. He shifted and it all came back to him as pain blazed across his chest taking his breath away, he lost track of time as he lay there in agony. Eventually it passed, and, if he lay very very still, the pain was manageable. At least he hadn't passed out this time. He was pretty sure he had woken before with that result.

Looking around the room he soon concluded he didn't know where he was. The room was no larger than his quarters at the barracks but the sandy stone and arched window suggested a completely different building. The quiet from beyond the window did not suggest Paris either. The last memories he had was of the attack he had been in with the other musketeers, obviously he had been injured yet he knew he had been here for a while but had no memory of any other musketeers being with him. He frowned looking to the window, sunlight was fading and he guessed it was late afternoon. Which begged the question of exactly how long he had been here?

He tried to figure out what to do next. There were two options, get up and find out where he was or yell and see who came. He had a feeling that he was not in a safe place, things were not quite right, which would make yelling to say he was awake inadvisable. However, where ever he was, he was in a comfortable bed and they had obviously seen to his wound. Of course, if he was a prisoner for whatever reason, then he would be of little use dead. Still, it didn't have to be in a nice room. After thinking for a while he came to the conclusion that getting up would be the best plan, at the very least it would allow him to work out the extent of his current abilities.

Given how much pain he was already in he braced himself. It was his left side that hurt so he carefully used his right arm to push himself up. He tried to keep from crying out at the pain, he had been injured on many occasions before but this was worse, so much worse. He got part way up and rested for a moment, the pain didn't decrease so he continued, figuring he might as well get it out of the way. Then he was there, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting, he tried to ignore the black spots on his vision. He was topless but still had his underwear on, a bandage went around the top of his torso, snaking over his left shoulder too, it was spotted with blood.

He sat for a while, he didn't think he could stand. He hand no idea how long he had been here but he was thirsty, goodness knows when he last ate or drank. Looking beyond the bed he could see, across the room, a jug of water sat on a chest of draws alongside bandages and medical supplies.

He was saved from attempting to stand by someone entering the room. It was a middle aged woman, plump but not fat and with a pretty face that, were she younger, Aramis would have spent time wooing. She was obviously shocked to see him awake but quickly recovered.

"And where do you think you are going?" she asked sternly. "You are not well enough to be getting out of bed."

Aramis had many questions but felt the need to provide a suitable answer. "I was thirsty," he said indicating the water.

She shut the door before going over to the water and pouring him a glass.

"Here," she said as she brought it over to him. He took it with his right arm, sipping it carefully, it tasted clean. "You shouldn't be sitting up."

"Where am I?" he asked her as she sat on a flimsy wooden chair besides the bed.

The woman sighed but answered, "the castle of Drago, technically you are his prisoner."

"Drago?" Aramis frowned, searching for the name. "I've never heard of him."

"He was the former duke of Deverell."

"The exiled brother," Aramis remembered the man being banished from France. But Drago shouldn't be in France "Where are we?"

"In the Beaufort hills, in the east of Deverell's land," she replied.

"Then Drago is no longer in exile," Aramis concluded.

"No."

"And he was the one who attacked the musketeers on the road?" he asked, after all that was the last clear memory he had.

"Yes, Drago has many men here, he attacked you." Aramis handed her back the glass, the pain was getting unbearable again. "You should lie back down."

He groaned as she helped him do so and he had to admit it felt good to lie down again. "How was I injured?"

"You don't remember?" she sounded surprised.

"I remember the attack," he said.

"You were shot with an arrow," she told him.

"An arrow?" he gritted his teeth against the pain. "Who uses arrows these days?"

She smiled at him, "you were very lucky, we did not think you would survive."

"Why was I brought here?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I think Drago wanted information, had his men known how badly injured you were they would not have taken you but there wasn't much time."

"Time?"

"You should rest," she said pulling up the blankets.

"But you have kept me alive," why when he was obviously so badly injured?

"Drago wasn't bothered but his son asked us to do so."

"Us?" he asked her, the pain was at a much more manageable level now.

"My husband and I, he is the cook here but he saw service and became adept at fixing men."

"A cook? My surgeon is a cook?" he smiled at her, not missing how she blushed in response.

"You are lucky, the arrow entered your back below your shoulder and when you were brought here you were barely breathing and your heart barely beating. My husband feared the arrow had damaged your heart or hit your lung. He had seen enough to know you were bleeding inside and since the arrow had gone so far in we could feel the point just under the skin here," she touched his side under his left arm. "my husband decided to push the arrow through and let the blood out. Miraculously you survived, any damage to your heart or lung was obviously minimal though you have at least two cracked ribs."

"The prognosis?" he asked, stunned at the damage. She was right, he was more than lucky, he had seen many men die of much less.

"Given you have survived this long, if you rest there is no reason the damage will not repair itself. You have been running a very light fever though I imagine that will not worsen now. You've lost a lot of blood but that'll return, as will your weight if you eat," she smiled at him, apparently adept at being a mother hen.

"And how long has it been?" he asked.

"You were attacked the day before yesterday," she glanced to the window, "and today is all but gone."

She stood and lit a candle across the room. Aramis lay still, taking in what she had told him. Obviously Athos and Porthos had no idea where he was, otherwise they would not have left him in the hands of their enemies. Did they even know that he was alive? Even if they thought him dead they would have come after him, they would have taken him back to be buried in Paris. So they mustn't know where he was, but he could be sure they would be coming for him. Based on how he felt at the moment, he was not easily going to be able to escape and make it back without them.

"I will leave you to rest," the lady told him as she smoothed her skirts. "Please don't try to leave, I doubt you can, but the castle is patrolled by guards. I will not tell my master that you are awake today, you will be stronger tomorrow."

"Great," he replied sarcastically.

"Would you like me to bring you soup later?"

His stomach churned at the thought. "No, thank you."

"Very well, perhaps in the morning," she moved to the door. "Goodnight."

"Wait"

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

"Mirabella," she replied with a smile, "what's yours?

"Aramis," he said, she nodded, picked up her skirt and left the room.

Aramis sighed, exhausted from the exchange, this wasn't where he wanted to be. But at least it wasn't the dungeon.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The lady goes hunting.

Milady de Winter rode through the French countryside at an enjoyable pace. She had followed that idiot man Dix from the Cardinal's offices back to his inn and there she had considered killing him. She had quickly decided that it would draw less attention if she killed him outside the city instead, so she had observed him leave and headed back to get her horse before leaving on the same road she saw Dix depart on.

There would be no harm in letting the man return to his master but it would be harder to kill him once he was in the confines of that mouldy old castle Drago considered home. Besides she had others to kill there, she might as well get one out of the way before hand.

It had not taken her long to catch up with Dix despite his head start and she had quickly dropped behind to avoid him seeing her, just catching glimpses of him on the road ahead from time to time. Following him was not difficult as she knew the location of Drago's hide out so had a pretty good idea where his man was going.

To her surprise, despite leaving Paris in the afternoon and riding at a rather slow pace, Dix rode on after dark for quite some time before choosing an inn to stay at. Milady didn't enter straight away not wanting any connection between her and the man that had just entered so she waited down the road for a while. Her horse was patient and warm beneath her in the chill night air. The animal was, she freely admitted, the only object she had in her possession that she felt any affection towards. He had been a gift from the Cardinal, a well bred animal that trusted her absolutely and was always pleased to see her. It had been a long time that anyone had liked her just for her and she treasured the relationship.

After quite a while of waiting on the road she was quite cool, but she knew it was time to go in when she felt a shiver go through the animal below her. The night air was not particularly cold but the day had been warm, her horse had sweated along the ride and now needed a good rub down and a warm stable.

She trotted up to the inn and dismounted leading her horse into the barn, immediately a boy jumped up from the shadows inside the door, where she presumed he had been napping, and offered to take the horse. Once she was happy he knew what he was doing she took what she needed from the saddle bags and entered the inn. Despite the fact it was not near a town it was quite busy inside, it was on a major road south. She organised a room from the proprietor and took a seat at a table where she could see Dix across the inn. She kept her eyes from him though, as he was looking at her. It was not unusual, most of the men in the inn were glancing appreciatively in her direction.

She asked for food and ate it, trying to be discreet, she would prefer that not everyone here remembered her. Though it made little difference, even if they connected her to the act she intended this evening they would not be able to find her again. Across the inn Dix was happily drinking at the bar. It took much longer than she would like for him to finally retire upstairs. She followed him up and the move was obvious enough that he stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to face her.

"Good evening sir," she said with a smile as he stopped in her way, he was not handsome and she had to force herself from cringing.

"Mademoiselle," he greeted. "Do you think I haven't seen you looking at me across the room?"

"You think highly of yourself," she replied coyly as she made to push past him. He didn't let her.

"Am I to believe it was unintentional?" he asked.

"I would prefer if you did," she said, a bit sharper this time.

"Are you sure?" he leaned closer.

"Very sure," she said coldly.

"Shame," he smiled a rotten tooth grin before turning to go to his room.

Milady noted the door before retiring herself. She did not sleep instead resting at the open window watching the moon rise across the courtyard and fields. Yet a few more people arrived as the night got very late and then the road was quiet. Once she was sure everyone downstairs had gone to bed she made her move. She left the room, wincing as the door creaked. Walking down the corridor she stopped at the door she had seen Dix enter and carefully opened it.

He was not the only man in the room, there were two other beds, both occupied. She smiled, she was skilled enough to kill him without them noticing and their presence would provide scape goats for the act. Stepping silently over to his bed she took out her knife and plunged it into his neck, it wasn't the quickest death but she wanted silent. He woke gurgling and she took the pillow from under his head and muffled any further sounds. He didn't fight back, the damage enough to prevent it and within a few minutes she was sure he was dead.

She cleaned the knife on the blanket and replaced the bloody pillow before leaving the room as silently as she came. She felt no remorse for the act, it had been pleasurable to hold such power in her hands, as it always was. Returning to her room she sat back at the window, she would have to leave early before any of the guests rose since leaving in the middle of the night would be suspicious to the stable boy. So she waited, with the window open she was getting a cold breeze across her and could not fall asleep fully. She did not want to as there was nothing to wake her early in the morning if she did. Sitting up helped, and she started often as she dozed off.

She did not usually sleep well so a night spent in such restlessness was not unusual nor difficult for her. She let her mind wander, thinking what her life could have been and what she had lost. Athos. He was what such thoughts centred around. She had been imagining too often how things might have been since she revealed herself to him at their house. It was foolish, Athos had ruined that life and she should look to the future, hopefully she would be able to make him pay, slowly and painfully. But it wasn't that easy, she admitted to herself, she had the chance to rid herself of him at the old house. Yet when the moment had come she had seen that locket, that token of her love, and reminded of what they had once had she'd fled allowing Athos to be saved. She hated him without a doubt, though she was beginning to wonder if that really meant she did not love him anymore. She liked to pretend it did.

Eventually she saw the barest hint of dawn across the dark sky. Nothing else had seen it, the inn was still quiet and beyond, in the darkness, not a bird sang. She took her things and left the room, going down the stairs. There was water left on the bar and she took some, filling her water skin before helping herself to apples also left on the bar. She undid the bolt on the main doors and crossed the yard in the murky darkness to the stables, the big barn doors were shut but a smaller door in them was unlocked and she entered. It was pitch black inside but she heard a noise to her left and realised she had woken the stable boy. Recognising her, he lit a couple of lamps and helped her ready her horse.

By the time the stable boy pushed open the large doors to the barn the courtyard was lit by the false dawn, a hazy light that would let her see her way on the road. Song birds had started singing and she quickly mounted wanting to get away from the inn before the chickens woke and crowed loud enough to wake those inside. With a thank you to the stable boy she nudged her horse into a slow trot wanting to warm him up in the chill morning air before going faster.

She would not see the consequence of her actions last night, she did miss that, if she had killed him in Paris she could have stayed long enough to see the panic and commotion she had caused, hidden as she would have been in a city of thousands of people. Still she could imagine it. She smiled encouraging her horse to go faster.

They rode along the road for a few hours, passing a few other travellers up this early. She stopped mid morning in a village with a market and bought some food and drink quickly continuing onwards. By midday she was feeling the consequences of the little sleep she had had the night before and rode off the road into the woods. She soon found a sunny clearing and dismounted, loosening her horses saddle and removing his bridle, she tied him up with a long rope so he could graze before laying down in the sunshine for a nap.

A few hours later she was on the road again, she reached a crossroads and paused for a moment. If she went right she would come across the road the musketeers had been on when they had been attacked. She was tempted, she would like to see the destruction that Drago had wrought on the musketeers but the direct route to Drago was left and into the hills. She went left, she hadn't time to be taking the long way round.

She let her horse speed up on the road enjoying the feeling of freedom she experienced. She liked Paris, there were so many people there she could watch and manipulate, working for the cardinal she had so much power over most of those she came across. It suited her and it was pleasurable. There was something to be said for leaving the city though, riding through wide open spaces with no one around and simply enjoying herself. She did not think this task the cardinal set her would be difficult, particularly as he was not there to comment on the way she was doing it. She would take her time and do it well, if she pleased him he might be more lenient when she was next distracted with the musketeers. And she did intend to be distracted again, she and Athos had unfinished business.

She rode for the rest of the day before stopping, she had ridden this route several times before and had an acquaintance's house she stopped at for the night. She would reach Drago late tomorrow.

AN: so checking in with the bad guys again this chapter but more Aramis in the next chapter! :-D


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The boy.

Aramis had a restless night, the pain kept waking him and he was all too pleased when the dawn finally shone through the window. It was obviously very early but he was determined to do something more than lay uselessly in the bed. He sat up again preparing himself to stand, he was dizzy and in pain but he was going to have to do it at some point. He stretched his legs and waited for the dizziness to pass and he was glad to find that if he held his left arm across his chest with the right the pain lessened. Then he stood, just about finding his balance without falling, and walked slowly to the window where he could lean on the wall and look out.

To his surprise the view was beautiful. The window was high, perhaps four or five stories up, but the building was built on a hillside and the ground below fell away down the forested hill and into the valley. He could see across the valley and to the hills beyond. The sky was clear and the sun was rising, bathing the land in a golden glow as the light spread to the valley floor. He pushed open the window, enjoying the chill morning air on his skin. Leaning out he could see that the building he was in did appear to be a castle. He sighed, things were never easy, why couldn't it be a small farm house with a tacked up horse outside?

He went over to the door, surprised to find it unlocked. Carefully he opened it, wincing as it creaked, looking out into the corridor he found it deserted. One direction went down some stairs and the other around a corner. He heard someone coming and quickly closed the door going over to what looked like his clothes on the draws. To his surprise they had been washed and the arrow holes sewn up. Aside from his clothes most of his things were here, however his weapons, powder and musket balls were not. To his great relief his gift from the queen was also to be found, tossed in a pile with his belts and buckles that usually attached his missing equipment to him. He picked up the cross, carefully putting it on and giving it a kiss, it had brought him protection once again. He jumped as the door opened behind him.

"Out of bed again I see," said Mirabella as she came into the room with a bowl of soup, bread and fresh water.

"Just wanted to see the view," he told her with a smile.

"Aye, it is a nice one, no mistake," she put the things she had brought in on the draws next to the bandages that were there. "We should change those bandages," she indicated his chest.

Aramis didn't reply, looking down at them, it was painful enough just standing here never mind taking them off and replacing them. "Now?" he said reluctantly.

"You'll heal faster if they are clean."

He looked in the pitcher she had brought, "you have any wine?" he asked hopefully.

"The water is direct from the spring, it's clean and fresh" she said missing the point as as she organised the bandages.

"Great," Aramis said sarcastically.

"Sit down," she directed him to the bed. If Aramis had thought he was in pain before then the next ten minutes were pure torture.

Once the bandages had been changed he rested against the headboard of the bed wondering whether it would be appropriate to have a nap less than half an hour after he had got up.

"Would you like the soup?" Mirabella asked, bringing it over.

Aramis' stomach turned as he caught the smell of it, it looked nice but he was not the slightest bit hungry, "I'm not hungry," he told her.

"You haven't eaten in three days," she replied. "Just try it."

He took the soup with a sigh but tried it none the less. It was good and he didn't feel like bringing it back up which was a bonus. He had not got far through it when someone knocked on the door. Mirabella had been cleaning up and she duly opened it.

"Henri," she greeted the person, opening the door wider for them to enter. It was a young boy perhaps 13 or 14 years of age, he was dressed well, his dark shoulder length hair neatly combed. Presumably this boy was Drago son. Henri stepped into the room and was obviously surprised to see Aramis awake.

"He's awake," he said, sounding happy about it.

"Indeed," Aramis said with a slight smile at the boy, he looked to put his soup down but was saved from the decision by Mirabella taking it from him and handing him the water instead.

"I am Henri," the boy said politely.

"Aramis," he answered.

"I am glad you are well, Mirabella though it unlikely you would survive," Henri said.

"She is a good nurse," Aramis smiled at her and was glad she blushed again. He drank his water. "You must be Drago's son."

"Yes, I am," the boy straightened his jacket. "Are you well enough to walk? Father will wish to talk to you."

"No, he is not well enough!" Mirabella protested. "He should stay in bed, not be questioned by your father."

"I can walk," Aramis told her.

"Besides I don't think father will want to question him," Henri frowned, "he found out all he wanted from the other man."

"What other man?" Aramis asked quickly.

"Another musketeer was taken before the mudslide came," Henri said as though that explained everything.

"Mudslide?" he asked, his heart skipping a beat, he didn't remember a mudslide.

"Drago's men caused a mudslide to bury the musketeers," Mirabella told him gently.

Aramis looked away shocked, perhaps no one had come after him because they were dead. "Did he... how many did he kill?" he choked out.

Mirabella looked to Henri for the answer.

"I don't know, certainly not all of them," the boy said. Aramis closed his eyes trying to control himself, he could do nothing about it here and now, he could only work with what was possible. He looked back to Mirabella.

"The other musketeer... why didn't you tell me?" he asked her, she shook her head and his eyes widened. "Where is he?"

Henri hesitated, also looking to Mirabella who nodded. "Father questioned him and then killed him."

Aramis felt like throwing up, "but not me."

"I asked him not too," Henri said eagerly, "you were badly injured, all father wished to know is where the king was, and he was told that by the other one."

"His name?"

"He did not tell it."

"Describe him," he asked him in a tone that brook no arguments.

"I don't know, tall, a fighter. He had brown hair, a moustache and a black coat," Henri offered. It was a rather general description of a musketeer but Aramis was pretty sure that ruled out D'Artagnan, which was a relief as he remembered being with D'Artagnan in the fight.

"Where is he?" Aramis asked. "Can I see him?"

"His body is in one of the cellars," Henri said. "Perhaps you can see him, father has left you in my charge so I can probably show you him later."

"Your father leaves a prisoner in the charge of a thirteen year old boy?" Aramis asked him incredulously.

"You are no challenge," Henri said, insulted. "My father has trained me to fight and look," Henri stepped forward and pushed the top of his left arm, Aramis couldn't help crying out at the excruciating pain. "You couldn't harm a fly."

"Henri!" Mirabella stepped forward pulling Henri back. Aramis gritted his teeth as he tried to get his breath back, the boy had rendered him useless.

"Also I am fourteen years old," Henri said petulantly.

"You should treat a prisoner with respect, not like your father" Mirabella told him. "Aramis is not at all well, if you wish him to live you must be very careful."

"Sorry," Henri said, still angry. "You should get dressed, we need to go see father."

Aramis took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was a prisoner here. Henri was just a boy and Mirabella a kindly woman, he didn't think that anyone else he met would be so nice.

"Can it not wait Henri?" Mirabella asked.

"It is fine Mirabella," Aramis told her, carefully sitting back up. "I will go with Henri."

"Very well, you will need to get dressed then," she said, moving Henri out of the way to help him. "Why don't you wait outside Henri?"

Aramis was glad when the boy went as it turned out getting dressed was a painful endeavour. In fact, he never planned to take the clothes off again and repeat the experience. Mirabella called Henri back in when Aramis was dressed. She fashioned a loop of fabric to hang around his neck that he could rest his left hand in, as that was the position which caused the least pain. Aramis had sat on the bed, exhausted. He would happily rest for a while again but he guessed that would not be an option.

"You are ready?" Henri asked cooly. Aramis realised he had annoyed the boy, in retro respect it may have been an error.

He stood, he was wearing much less than usual, all the weapons that would usually be attached to him were missing. He was pretty sure he should feel light but his injury made any movement painful, agony really. One obvious thing was missing.

"I had a hat," he said glancing around, it wasn't here.

"You had no hat when you came here," Henri frowned at him.

Aramis sighed, that would appear to be true but he did regret the loss of the hat. "Very well young Henri, lead the way," he told him.

AN: So more trouble for Aramis! I hope everyone is still enjoying it! I'm super excited for the new episode tomorrow, I might be kind and post two chapters tomorrow if people wish? I've just read the BBC synopsis for the very last episode, Milady up to trouble again! I can't wait for it but it will be the end, so sad... I assume people go on the BBC website and see all the behind the scene videos? If you haven't you should, they are very good, the sneek peek for tomorrow's ep is hilarious!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Finding hope.

Athos woke as a dim light was coming through the window. The three of them had ridden hard yesterday and arrived late to the village they had stayed in the other night. In the same room. Athos looked over to the empty bed and felt such sorrow that Aramis was not with them. After being told that Aramis' body could not be found Porthos and D'Artagnan were allowing themselves to hope, he had seen evidence of it throughout the ride yesterday. Comments, gestures even the occasional smile. But he was holding himself back, trying to be the voice of reason. He didn't doubt that Aramis wasn't not buried under that mud but still alive after an arrow in the back? He wasn't convinced even Aramis could pull that off.

At times like this he wondered if it was worth getting attached to his brothers in the musketeers, not that he had sought out Aramis and Porthos, they had chosen him, and D'Artagnan had fallen in with all three of them by chance. None the less he had felt such grief when the brother he had grown up with had died and he felt a great deal more affection for the brothers he had now. Of course it had been the manner of his brothers death that caused him his grief, the betrayal and loss of his beloved wife. That life had been a lie, and he had never quite felt like it fit. He didn't enjoy being a noble man, dressing up and behaving correctly, the highlight had been the love she had given him and that had been a lie all along. His life among the musketeers felt right, his brothers loved him and supported him no matter what. That they appeared to have lost Aramis hurt him deeply. But he wasn't going to pretend that he was alive when the chance he was was so slim. He freely admitted he was bitter about the people and life he had lost. This time he was determined to be realistic, to not let fate tease and tempt him again.

He sighed, rising from the bed. The movement woke Porthos immediately but D'Artagnan didn't wake until he gave him a pat on the shoulder. They washed and dressed before having a hot breakfast downstairs and setting out again. It was not far up the hill to where the mudslide had been. The road had been repaired but the rest of the hillside was scarred with the destruction of the mudslide. For a moment the three of them stopped and took in the scene.

"What now?" D'Artagnan asked.

"If our attackers left here for some location in the hills in the east of Deverell's lands, south east of here, how did they get there?" Athos started the process.

"They're were a lot of attackers," Porthos continued, "they must have been seen by someone between here and there."

"So we ask anyone in that direction?" D'Artagnan queried and Athos could hear the scepticism in his voice.

"There is a village in the next valley, on the cross point of two roads," Athos told him. "There is a good chance they travelled through there on there way to where ever they went."

"They travelled through the woods," Porthos indicated down the hill in the direction he and Athos had spent so long looking in for any evidence that Aramis might have avoided the mudslide.

"Then we should follow," Athos decided.

They nudged their horses off the road and onto the muddy hillside. The day was sunny, it had been since the mudslide and the ground had dried giving them a solid enough surface to ride on. Once they got a bit further down the hill it flattened out and the path that their attackers might have taken through the woods became more obvious. It was a young wood, parts were impassable on horse back because of the undergrowth which left fewer options to travel. Coupled with a general idea of the direction they must have gone it was easy for Athos to find the path. It was not long before they found proof they were going the right way.

"Athos!" Porthos said from behind him, he turned in time to see Porthos dismounting and picking something up from the forest floor. It was Aramis' hat. "He definitely came this way," Porthos said with a grin.

Athos looked to D'Artagnan to see him grinning too. It was getting harder and harder for him to stop the hope from bubbling up inside him. Porthos put the hat into his saddle bags, before mounting, and they continued onwards.

In heading directly for the village they found themselves emerging from the woodland onto farmland not a great distance from the road they would have been coming down had they continued on the road. They rode onwards into the village proper, stopping outside the village inn and, tying up the horses outside, went in. It was still early and inside the only people were those having breakfast, presumably after having stayed the night. With a glance at his companions Athos approached the bar.

"Good morning sir," the man behind the bar greeted.

"Good morning," Athos replied.

"What can I get you?"

"Are you aware that a few days ago musketeers were attacked on the hill road?" he asked.

"Aye," the man said looking at them with sudden suspicion, "a terrible business that."

"The attackers fled in this direction, did you see them?"

"I didn't see anything, I work in here, I don't watch the road for everyone passing through," the man said defensively.

"There would have been a large group and you didn't notice?" Porthos asked, coming closer

threateningly.

"Hey hey, hold your horses," he put his hands up in a calming gesture. "If you want someone who might have seen them then ask Aldrick, the blacksmith, round the corner. He sees everyone that comes and goes through this village."

"Thank you," Athos said and they left the inn, untying their horses and leading them around the corner. For a village it was quite busy, people going about their business and the musketeers were obviously a curiosity, drawing numerous gazes. The blacksmiths was a large, open fronted business mostly under a wooden porch which would make it easy for the workers there to see what was going on. As they approached a tall man, presumably Aldrick greeted them, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Good day gentleman, need some work doing?" he asked indicating their horses.

"Not currently," Athos replied and he told the man what they were looking for.

"Ah," like the man in the inn, he scrutinised them before replying. "They came through here alright, they were not in any great rush, they stopped to water their horses before riding on."

"Can you describe them?"

Aldrich shrugged, "men on horses."

"How many men?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Maybe forty, maybe more," he answered. "More came through here earlier in the day. On the way back their were fewer men and more horses without riders, but then I suppose you musketeers killed a number of them up in them hills."

Aldrich turned back to sort some of his wares.

"Could you tell if they travelled with prisoners?" Pothos said stepping closer. Athos said nothing, whilst he thought Porthos was still being hopeful, he did want to hear the answer.

"Prisoners? No I saw no such thing, but many of those unmounted houses had bodies on their backs, I assumed they were all dead but I have no evidence of that," Aldrich turned back to them.

"Can you tell us where they went?" he asked.

"I don't know where they were going but they headed out on the east road, it leads up towards the hills. There is talk of villages out that way getting raided, perhaps by the men that came through here," Aldrich replied.

"Thank you," Athos said as the three of them mounted their horses again. "You have been very useful."

"Anything for the king's men," Aldrich said. "Good day."

"And to you," Athos nudged his horse into a fast trot out of the village and along the road Aldrich had indicated. D'Artagnan came up beside him as they left the village and Porthos on the other, the road was easily wide enough to accommodate them.

"Well at least we have a direction," D'Artagnan said, "even if we have no idea where we are going."

"We'll ask again further along the road," Athos told him, he was pretty sure the closer they got to where ever these men came from the easier it would be to find out where it was from the people they passed.

"He couldn't say anything about Aramis though," Porthos said and it was the first time recently that Athos had heard any doubt in his voice.

"Doesn't mean he wasn't among them," he found himself saying, "spotting a musketeer among forty men when you are not looking for him would be difficult."

"And with him injured he wouldn't have been riding," D'Artagnan pointed out. He looked to Athos and Porthos nervously.

"D'Artagnan?" Athos queried what was on his mind.

"Truly though, do you think Aramis could have survived a ride to where ever these men were going? Even just this far is several miles from the hillside and without attention..." D'Artagnan trailed off.

Athos looked to Porthos and realised that Porthos wanted to hear his opinion, his loyalty to Aramis would not waiver but knowing that Athos believed too would mean a great deal to him. For a moment or two Athos concentrated on riding. He could throw his weight behind believing Aramis was alive and he wondered if it would make a difference? Was he not already acting as though Aramis still lived somewhere? Certainly, if they found him dead, all this time preparing himself for the possibility would not change the grief he would experience. And currently they were riding as hard as possible to an unknown destination to rescue him and he was quite prepared to kill anyone that got in his way of doing so. It would make no difference to admit to the others he believed Aramis could yet live. If he let himself hope.

"We have no evidence he is not alive. They took him with them, why would they continue to do so if he had died?" he said to them.

Porthos smiled and Athos knew he had done the right thing, "Aramis is a lucky devil, if anyone could survive this it is him."

"Then the faster we ride the quicker we will find him," D'Artagnan decided, he smiled at them, increasing his speed into a rolling canter and they followed behind.

AN: In this chapter I wanted to explore why Athos may have been a bit more hesitant than the others to believe Aramis is alive; he's older and wiser and a bit more jilted, but at the end of the day or course he is going to believe in his fellow musketeers! So hopefully that works, either way they are tracking him down :-) So this is the first of two chapters today, I'll post the other after the new episode!


	11. Chapter 11

AN: loved the episode! And as promised another chapter, (longest one yet!) enjoy!

Chapter 11: The father.

Aramis paused on the staircase, in front of him Henri stopped looking back to him with a frown.

"What's wrong?" the boy asked.

"What's wrong?" he repeated incredulously. "What's wrong is the excruciating pain all across my left side," he said honestly. They had only gone down a couple of floors since leaving his room but Henri was a fast active young boy and Aramis had been laying in bed next to death the last few days.

"Oh, sorry," Henri had the decency to look abashed.

Aramis moved to rest on the wall of the tower as two women came up with laundry, he hadn't even the energy to smile at them.

"Can you go on?" Henri asked.

"Yes, but how about we go a little slower eh?" Aramis managed to say. Henri nodded and they continued down the stairs. It was hard going, he was in so much pain walking was hard but as he breathed harder his cracked ribs hurt more. They had not far until they reached what appeared to be the entrance hall. There were armed men here, presumably Drago's men, resting and chatting in the hall. They all looked to them as they entered, smiling slightly as they saw Aramis' condition. For the first time in a long time Aramis felt nervous, usually he could defend himself, failing that his brothers in arms would do so, but here he was alone with nothing stopping those men amusing themselves.

"The musketeer lives," said one man with a sneer and he and his friends stepped closer.

"He does," Henri replied, obviously comfortable with the men. "Though only just."

"Looks like it too," another man came from the right and gave Aramis a nudge. He tried to mask the pain it caused and stood a little straighter reminding himself he was the king's man.

"He is my prisoner," Henri said to the man with an authoritative voice, "you will leave him alone until my father has seen him."

To Aramis' surprise the men still stared but came no closer, perhaps he was wrong, he wasn't completely alone.

"Is my father busy?" Henri asked them indicating a large set of doors across the hall. Aramis assumed they lead to Drago.

"He is," the first man told him. "Give him a half hour or so."

"Very well," Henri nodded and he walked off slowly, indicating to Aramis to follow him. They went along a corridor before rounding a corner to a smaller set of stairs. "The other musketeer is down here if you wish to see him now."

"Yes, thank you," Aramis replied indicating Henri to lead on. The sooner he found out who Drago had killed the better. The descended the stairs slowly, the boy frequently waiting for him, they were going down into the cellars and at the bottom of the stairs Henri took a lantern off the wall to light their path. They had not far to go before Henri lead him into an empty vaulted cold cellar. It was not completely empty, Aramis realised in the dim light, there was a table in the middle with a covered body on it. He walked towards it, Henri following with the torch. With only the slightest hesitation he pulled the sheet down. His heart dropped as he identified him. Gill. They were not close but he had known him quite well, fought beside him and drunk with him afterwards.

"Did you know him?" Henri asked curiously.

"Yes, he was a friend," he answered, covering him back up with the sheet. "Why hasn't your father had him buried?"

He was assuming Drago was decent enough to bury the men he killed.

"I don't know, I think he had not decided if he might be of use," Henri replied.

"Of use?" Aramis frowned.

"I don't know. He doesn't always get rid of bodies straight away and the cold cellars keep them for a while anyway."

Aramis sighed. He bowed his head and said a little prayer for his friend. When he looked up Henri was looking curiously at him. "Well?" he asked the boy.

Henri sniffed, the air was cool. "Perhaps I can show you the castle, do you think you can walk a bit farther?"

"Sure, why not," Aramis replied, he wasn't sure he could but he wouldn't turn down a tour of his prison.

Henri didn't lead him back up the stairs but further into the cellars. Presently they came to a busier part of the castle, it appeared to be the kitchens, an assumption that was confirmed as they stepped into the main kitchen hall. The room was buzzing with people, all answering to a woman barking orders from the counter in the middle. The great fires were warming the room and there was a strong smell of roasting meats that could be seen turning on the spits in the hearth. The people there obviously knew Henri well and greeted him enthusiastically.

"Henri," the woman barking orders greeted him, "what are you up to?"

Aramis managed a congenial smile as her shrewd eyes took him in.

"Showing Aramis around," Henri said, more interested in what treats he could take from the tables.

"Ah, you must be the injured musketeer," the woman realised. "Marcus spoke of you, I am glad to see you up and about."

"Marcus?" Aramis asked.

"Mirabella's husband," Henri provided, frowning as the woman batted his hand away from some food.

"You are kind," Aramis thanked the woman with a nod, "as is Marcus, I hear I owe him a great deal. He is not here?" Aramis glanced around, Mirabella's husband was supposed to be a cook.

"Marcus is the boss down here, he comes and goes as he pleases, and at the moment he is not here" the woman said. "Would you like a sweet cake?" she asked picking one and offering to him, he took it with a thanks.

"Hey!" Henri whined, "why does he get one and I don't?"

"Because he is polite," she replied.

"Please?" Henri begged.

"Very well," she finally gave him one. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," Henri stuffed his mouth with the cake. "Come on Aramis, I'll show you the courtyard."

"Good day, madam," Aramis said to the woman as they left, he missed having a hat to tip.

"You had better take care of him, young Henri, he is a king's musketeer and they are good men," she said as they left and Aramis raised his eyebrows in surprise. Perhaps everyone here did not completely support Drago.

From the kitchens they exited the building through a door into the courtyard. There were a few steps up from the kitchen to ground level and with so many people going back and forth into the kitchens Aramis tried to keep out of the way. The courtyard was large, surrounded on all sides by the castle the only exit appeared to be the main gate which had a portcullis. Opposite the side with the gate, up a set of steps, were the main doors, presumably to the entrance hall they had just been in. The kitchens exited on left side of that door and, in the other side of the courtyard, a door appeared to lead into the stables. There were no towers or armaments that Aramis could see, just a large building with a courtyard in the middle. Perhaps if he could see the roof, four or five stories up, there would be places for men to defend the castle from up there.

"Come, I will show you the stables," Henri indicated for him to follow again and they set off across the courtyard.

The stables spilled out into the courtyard with a lean-to to shelter the animals under and people bringing horses out for grooming and riding. They entered down a slight incline and through a large door into a room off which corridors ran, down each one Aramis could see rows of stables. In comparison to the kitchens across the way it had a much more airy feel and smelt strongly of horses.

"Let me show you my horse," Henri said excitedly and led him down the stables. They stopped at a stall where a black pony's head popped out. "This is Blaise, my father has just bought him for me."

Aramis leant on the door looking at the animal, realising it was not a small pony, perhaps large enough to be a horse. Indeed, it only slightly smaller than the horses he rode but Henri was a growing lad so he would presumably grow into it. It was, he could tell, very well bred and likely very expensive, Drago obviously intended only the best for his son.

"He is very impressive, your father has good taste," Aramis commented stroking the horse's nose.

"Yes, he sent for him from a friend abroad. I have only ridden him once so far, he is hard to ride and I am not a good enough rider I think," Henri admitted.

"But you can ride?" Aramis asked, Blaise snorted and jumped as he heard a noise further up the stable, he danced on his toes for a moment and Aramis wondered if a headstrong horse was the right choice for a young lad.

"Yes I've always ridden but never with such a fine horse."

"Perhaps I could help, I'm a good rider perhaps I could teach you somethings, but it does just takes time to get to know a new horse," Aramis explained, trying to be friendly.

"Henri?" came a call from down the stable.

"Yes?" Henri asked as a man appeared looking for him, it looked like one of the soldiers.

"Your father is asking for you," the man said before indicating Aramis "and your prisoner."

"We are on our way," Henri replied.

They walked across the courtyard and up the steps to the main door. Aramis found himself exhausted, he would much prefer to have a rest rather than face a murder of musketeers but he didn't think he had much choice in the matter. Inside the entrance hall the large doors to the room beyond were now open and Henri led him straight in. It was a large impressive hall, though there was very little in it, a couple of lit fires in the hearths and a desk and chairs at the other end. There was a man leaning over the desk inspecting some documents, Aramis assumed he was Drago. He was tall, in dark leathers with black short curly hair. As he straightened and turned to see who had entered Aramis saw his face, it was rugged with dark eyes and a long scar down the right side, it seemed to be stuck in a permanently angry expression.

"So this is the musketeer?" he asked rhetorically as they approached.

"Yes father, this is Aramis," Henri told him, Aramis made no comment.

"Hmm, I did not believe he would live," Drago said, going around the desk to sit at the large chair behind it, his eyes did not stop their appraisal of Aramis.

"Mirabella said he was very lucky," Henri said glancing sideways at Aramis.

"Indeed," Drago seemed to be thinking. "Henri, Fitz wanted to tell you something, why don't you go find out what it was?"

Henri suddenly looked nervous, "now?"

"What is wrong with now?" Drago replied in a tone daring Henri to disobey.

"If you wish," Henri turned and, giving Aramis a worried look, headed out of the hall. Before exiting he turned. "Father, you won't kill him will you?"

"He is your prisoner son," Drago answered in a way that did not reassure Aramis. Drago crossed his arms as the boy left, then he stood slowly and carefully coming around the desk. "I have no use for another musketeer," he said, he stood as tall as Aramis and looked him in the eyes.

"You do seem to enjoy killing them," Aramis replied, controlling his growing anger.

Drago laughed, "I have nothing against the musketeers except their loyalty to our so called king."

"So you ambush us on the road?" Aramis asked.

"I would like to get my message across," Drago said, "what better way than attacking the king's favourite guards?"

"They will come here and take you to Paris for justice."

"How will they find me?" Drago asked loudly, stepping away to take in his hall. "This castle is old and forgotten, I have restored it to grandeur and made friends with the villages around here, they are hidden in these hills, forgotten by their duke and left to their own devices. I have made allies and built an up a force of men. My brother is a coward and I will be a thorn in his side until he runs away from my lands."

"They are not your lands anymore," Aramis disagreed turning to the man now behind him. "The king will not let you have them again."

"Then I will kill the king," Drago said with such seriousness that Aramis believe he thought he could.

"You cannot believe..." he was interrupted as Drago grabbed his coat and moved his face closer, he gasped at the pain but held his breath as Drago spoke.

"You cannot tell me what I believe," Drago whispered crazily, "you are nothing, a prisoner I would have let die."

"You did not," Aramis said pointedly.

"No, I did not," he let him go and stepped away, Aramis closed his eyes as the man's back was turned and tried to control the pain, he looked back at him as Drago continued. "My son wanted to keep you alive, and so I let him. I thought whether you died or lived it would be a lesson for him to learn, and look at you, you are an easy enough prisoner for him to entertain himself with."

Aramis said nothing, he did not really wish to irritate the man further, his life obviously meant nothing to Drago. Part of him was surprised that Drago had not already killed him, he had killed Gill as soon as he believed he had nothing further to offer, he knew of few others that had so little regard for the life of their prisoners.

"I like to keep my son happy, it pleases me," Drago told him, his voice just as threatening as before. "And I do think it is possible you might have some use for me in the future even if I do not know what it is. But I doubt it. Believe me when I say that the moment he looses interest, and he is a child he will loose interest, I will kill you. You are a liability and I am not interested in liabilities."

Aramis could not help his anger, "then you will kill me like you would butcher an animal? That is no way to treat your fellow man!"

Drago stepped closer again and Aramis hissed as he pushed him back towards the table, "you are my enemy!" he spat. "You represent everything I fight against, you are less than an animal!"

"Father!" Aramis felt such relief as he hear Henri coming. Drago stopped immediately and stepped away and Aramis was left leaning against the table for support. "You said you would not hurt him!"

"I said I would not kill him," Drago replied as Henri walked up and stood beside Aramis. "And I have not."

"Sire?" a man's voice came from the doorway.

"Yes?" Drago answered irritated.

"Edgard would see you my lord."

"I suggest you keep your prisoner from my sight Henri," Drago offered once again giving Aramis an angry stare.

"Yes father," Henri frowned.

Drago turned and walked from the hall, "I expect to see you at lunch son," was his parting comment.

"Are you alright?" Henri asked, obviously worried about him.

"Of course," Aramis answered trying to smile at the boy, he put a hand on Henri's shoulder and stood up straight groaning. "Your father is an interesting man," he said, interesting was the wrong word but he was talking to Drago's son so he left off the more colourful language.

"I guess so," Henri replied slowly looking Aramis up and down. "Perhaps I had better take you back to your room?"

Aramis wanted to say no, it sounded like agreeing to return to a jail, but the room was comfortable and he very much wanted to lay down again. "Yeah, perhaps so," he replied with a sigh. He walked with Henri towards the doors at the end of the hall.

"Maybe when you feel up for it I can show you more of the castle? Or the village down the road? I have many friends there, they would very much like to meet a real musketeer!" Henri said excitedly.

Aramis raised his eyebrows, perhaps there would be opportunity to escape this castle yet.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Viper in the castle.

Milady de Winter trotted her horse into the courtyard of Drago's castle late in the afternoon. Her arrival was noticed by Drago's men who had seen her visit before and she saw one run inside, presumably to tell Drago. The men didn't know why she visited, but they knew that Drago treated her as an honoured guest and they were expected to do the same. Her challenge would be to find out how many of Drago's men did know who she worked for and how the Cardinal had been supporting Drago's return to France. Their relationship had always been kept quiet so she was hoping there would not be many men she had to kill.

She dismounted her horse as Drago appeared at the main door, he smiled as he saw her and quickly came down the steps.

"Milady de Winter," he greeted as he came over, "what an unexpected pleasure, as always."

He indicated for a man to come and take her horse, before taking her hand and giving it a kiss.

"Indeed," she replied with a smile. "It has been a while."

He indicated for her to walk with him inside. "I assume your master sent you here?"

"He is worried about your recent actions," she told him freely.

"I sent a man to talk with him about it," Drago said as they entered his great hall, the doors closing behind the two of them.

"Ah yes, I think he spoke with someone," she replied. She didn't really have a cover story for where Dix was but then men disappeared all the time so if he asked she would deny all knowledge. Drago, however, didn't seem to care.

"Then he knows that I am impatient, waiting here in this godforsaken castle, training men to be idle," he went to the table. "Would you like some wine?"

"Yes, thank you," she said taking the glass from him, he poured another one for himself. "The cardinal cannot afford the attention your actions are drawing."

"Your cardinal," Drago said, stepping closer and stressing the 'your', "would council that I stay here indefinitely, only popping out when he wants something doing."

"That is what he provides you money for," she pointed out. The cardinal had payed for Drago's return so that he may control him.

"I have my own agenda!" Drago yelled, stepping away in annoyance. It didn't phase her, he was an angry man but she had spent time with him before.

"The cardinal has no issue with your agenda except when it attracts the attention of people who will come here looking for you," she said stepping closer to him and putting a hand on the back facing her.

"They will not find me," he turned around to face her with a confident smile.

"Then you underestimate the musketeers," she disagreed, "perhaps your brother would not ferret you out for your actions but in attacking the musketeers you ensure they will hunt you down, however long it takes."

"Let them try," he said stepping over to the windows that looked across the courtyard, from here they could see the men going back and forth in their duties. "We are well defended and well hidden, I do not fear a group of guardsmen."

"The musketeers are some of the best soldiers in France." she joined him at the windows.

"I do not care, I will succeed, I will be a duke again and my son will have what he has always deserved."

Milady said nothing for a moment. Drago was a powerful man and she did not doubt he believe he could do what he said. But she could see the obvious limitations, this was an old castle, better designed for comfort than really repelling a siege. And Drago had nothing like the number of men with the right training to defend the castle, certainly not against the well trained musketeers.

"I heard you had caught a musketeer?" she changed the subject for a moment.

"The king was supposed to be travelling along that road, I was curious as to why he was not there" he admitted.

"You intended to attack the king?" she asked trying to avoid any accusation in her voice. Perhaps she was mistaken, perhaps he was just that stupid.

"I intended to frighten the king, put him off visiting here," Drago said, "when he was not there I wished to know why. So my men made the mudslide happen and we had took the opportunity to take a couple of musketeers."

"Where are they?" she asked. "The musketeers will look for one of their own."

"One I killed after I had what I wanted and the other my son wished to keep," he pointed out of the window. "Here he comes with my son now."

"Your son...?" she trailed off looking out the window. She recalled him being rather young. "You let him wander around with a prisoner?"

"The musketeer is badly injured, he can barely keep up with my son," Drago explained.

But Milady wasn't listening she was looking at the musketeer coming across the courtyard with Drago's boy. Aramis. He looked injured, but he was still alive, smiling at something the boy was telling him. She smiled, this could be useful. She could kill him here, far from the protection of the musketeers. Athos loved his friends, killing Aramis would hurt him deeply, the cardinal wouldn't mind in the slightest and she guessed Drago wouldn't either. Then she realised what Aramis being here would mean, Athos would come. She did not doubt that, Athos, Porthos and young D'Artagnan would track Aramis down to the ends of the earth if it was required, whether or not Aramis was dead or alive. Her heart sunk, Drago believed they would not find him here but she knew the musketeers, they were good at what they did it was only time until they found this hide out. And the cardinal's secret.

She stepped into the shadow as Aramis' gaze came close to the window. "You understand though that the cardinal cannot afford for knowledge of your arrangement to reach the musketeers?" she asked Drago getting back to the point in hand.

"I am a man of my word, Milady," he replied gruffly, "none will find us here, and I will tell none of it anyway."

"And how many others here know?" she said urgently. "Do you trust all you have told to take it to their deaths?"

"Only a handful know," Drago conceded.

"Who?" he looked at her suspiciously but answered anyway.

"Only the captain of my guard, Mason, my advisor, Fitz, and Edgard, my brother in law," he told her. "I trust them all with my life and indeed with my death. If I die in this endeavour I expect them to continue. Knowing that your cardinal will support us is vital if they go on to do so."

She is prevented from replying to that when the door opens slightly and Henri came into the hall, "Father?"

For a moment she fears that Aramis will enter, she does not want him to see her, but the boy enters alone.

"Henri," Drago greets him, beckoning him to enter. "We have a guest, do you remember Milady de Winter?"

Henri runs across the hall, "Milady," he greets standing by his father, though she is pretty sure the boy didn't particularly remember her -they had only met in passing. "How do you do?"

"Well, thank you," she replied with a fake smile.

"Father, there is a travelling story man come to the village may I go down later and hear him?" Henri asked shyly, turning to his father.

"You wish to go down to the village at night?" Drago asked with a frown.

"It will not be too late," Henri argued, "and I'm sure Marcus or Mirabella will come if you wish."

"No, I do not think so," Drago decided, "with Milady here we will have a feast, I will expect you there now that you are old enough for such things."

"But father, I have never seen a story man, please may I go?" Henri wined and Milady frowned slightly, she did not like children.

"Perhaps you should let him go, I do not wish for a large public meal, could we have something a bit quieter?" she asked smiling coyly at Drago. She would much prefer her presence to remain quiet.

A slow smile appeared on Drago's face. "Very well Henri, go to the village, have fun," he said, patting his son on the back dismissively.

Henri looked suspiciously at Milady and she guessed he was old enough to know what she was suggesting she and his father should get up to. But after a moment he turned to his father, "really?"

"Of course, if you wish it, go!" Drago pushed the boy away and, smart enough not to question further, Henri ran off across the hall. "So you wish a private evening?"

Milady smiled as he stood closer, he was a handsome and powerful man, scarred and weathered by life, but they had spent nights together before and she had enjoyed it. Besides if he would soon be killed, by her hand or the musketeers, she might as well enjoy him before hand.

"Wouldn't you prefer one?" she asked in a whisper.

"Indeed," he replied. "Come," he offered his arm and she took it. "I will ask for our food to be sent to my apartments and we can enjoy it together."

She did enjoy the night, Drago's rooms were luxurious and his company pleasant. In the morning she relaxed for a while on the comfortable bed before finally deciding she should get to work. She wandered around the castle finding out exactly who the three men Drago had said knew of Drago's and the cardinal's arrangement were. Then she considered how she might kill them. Following the men and learning their habits was the beginning of the process but at the end of the day she was going to need a distraction. If she killed them it would be suspicious to Drago. Perhaps she could poison or disappear one of them but not all three. She would have to wait, she realised, until Drago's castle was attacked and then she would have a slim window of opportunity to kill the four men as well as avoid the musketeers. She sighed, things were never easy.

AN: so bad guys this chapter, more Aramis tomorrow! I hope people are still enjoying it!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The seeds of doubt.

Aramis stood looking out of the window of his room. Technically his prison cell. Mirabella had just brought him lunch and he had been hungry enough to eat it all this time. Though perhaps that was because he had not been able to stomach breakfast. He turned and went to lay down on the bed, groaning as he lay down. The constant pain he was in was wearing him down, he kept telling himself that it wasn't surprising given how badly injured he was but today was the sixth day after he was injured and he was still struggling to move about and stay awake any length of time.

After his tour of the castle the day before yesterday he had spent the day abed, and yesterday Henri had invited him to come and see the village but he had barely managed a five minute walk beyond the castle before he and Henri had to turn back. Mirabella had chastised him for that as she had arrived to his room moments after he had reached it, out of breath and exhausted, wanting to change his bandages. It irritated her even further when she found he had been bleeding again.

Henri had left for some performance in the village shortly after they had returned and Aramis had not seen him the rest of that evening nor this morning. He was bored in his room alone, with only Mirabella's occasional visits to entertain him, he missed the boy. But something rather more frightening was worrying him, what if Henri had grown bored of him? If Henri was not around Drago could come anytime and kill him, usually that would not worry him but he would not be able to defend himself. He might get a nice room but he was a prisoner, at the mercy of a ruthless and uncaring captor. And Henri was the only thing that stood in his way, he needed the boy.

Another thing that was starting to bother him was the lack of his friends, where were Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan? Why had they not come for him? It had been six days since the attack and they had not found him. He couldn't imagine them not looking for him, couldn't believe they would not move heaven and earth to find him, yet they hadn't. Which left the really terrifying possibility that they hadn't because they couldn't, that they had died in that mudslide, and thanks to some horrible twist of fate he alone had survived.

He let the thought in only fleetingly: if it were true he didn't know what to do.

They would come, he told himself. He just had to survive until they did. Either that or figure out a way out of here when he was so badly injured. It would be difficult at the moment, assuming he could get a horse out and ride away he had no idea where he was, nor how far he would have to go to find help. He had never been in the Beaufort hills before but knew they were expansive and maze-like. For the moment it would be best to stay, avoid Drago, and keep getting to know the castle, it's people and the surroundings.

He must have dozed off laying there as he was jolted awake as the door opened. He looked over to see Henri coming in the room.

"Aramis, are you awake?" Henri asked, obviously in a good mood.

"I am now," he replied, rubbing his face to wake himself up, before slowly easing himself up. "I thought you had forgotten me."

"Of course not," Henri said quickly, "I wouldn't"

"I'm glad," he smiled at Henri, "I was getting bored here alone."

"Oh, I suppose it is boring here," Henri said looking round the sparse room. "I had lessons with Fitz this morning, it was boring."

"You are lucky your father wishes you to get an education."

"Doesn't make it any less boring," Henri replied with a smile. "I wondered if you would like to try walking to the village again, I really would like to show you it and you could meet some of my

friends. I have told them all about you, the king's musketeer!"

Aramis chuckled and then winced as his ribs protested. "I'd like that," he told him. He really did need to see the village if he was to have a better understanding of how he might escape this place. He stood up carefully and followed Henri out of the room and they went down into the courtyard. Henri was a ball full of energy obviously wanting to race to the village but Aramis was glad he was keeping the pace slow.

"You have a weapon," Aramis commented as they walked slowly out of the castle gates, he hadn't notice the boy carry a sword before.

"Yeah," Henri replied slowly, looking at the sword at his side. "Father said I should carry one when I am escorting a prisoner around."

"I suppose that is sensible," Aramis admitted. "Can you use it?"

"Of course," Henri answered, not at all insulted. "I have been learning since I was young." He drew the sword and demonstrated a few poses playfully.

"Very good," Aramis smiled.

"My father had this sword made for me do you like it?" to Aramis' amusement Henri offered him the sword, he was pretty sure his father would not approve, but a glance up and down the road proved no one was around to see so he took it.

"It is nicely balanced," he told him inspecting the sword, it was smaller and lighter than the one he used but perfect for a boy and certainly sharp enough not to be mistaken for a toy. "Small and light, about right for you?" he handed it back.

"Yes," Henri spun it a few more times before putting away. They walked a bit further down the road. Aramis tried to distract himself from the pain he was experiencing by looking at where they were going and considering how he might escape at some point. The road was quite well maintained, not overly steep so carts could still be taken up to the castle, but it was built on a hillside with one side going steeply up and the other downwards and both sides were well forested. The only easy way down was on the road itself which did make the castle difficult to attack.

He smiled as a woman came walking up the road, he had seen her in the castle kitchens. He had learned that most of the people that worked in the castle unusually did not live there but came from the villages and came and went during the day.

"What?" he asked as he realised Henri was scrutinising him.

"I always wanted to be a musketeer," Henri said, apparently trying to walk as he seemed to think Aramis was. Aramis frowned.

"You're the son of a man who was a duke," he said, "why would you be thinking about being anything other than a duke yourself?"

For a moment Henri looked reluctant. "I had an older brother," he said, "he died before shortly before father brought us back to France."

"I'm sorry," Aramis said.

"He would have been the duke, my father was training him to be his heir," Henri continued, "I was never expecting to be a duke so I could imaging being anything I wanted. Father didn't mind, Deon always said I was father's favourite. He was certainly nicer before Deon died," he looked to Aramis thoughtfully and Aramis made no comment allowing Henri to say what was on his mind. "Deon said the king must have been wrong to exile father and I believed that, father has always been an angry man but surely he would not defy the king. But now I wonder. Coming back here and attacking his brother I could understand, but attacking the king's musketeers?"

"I think you are right," Aramis told him kindly. "Your father is an angry man and he is following the wrong path." In his opinion Drago was much more than an angry man who's actions would soon result in his downfall but talking to a boy about why his father may not be the man he thought he was required something a bit more subtle.

"My father doesn't listen to me," Henri said sadly, "I was happy abroad even when Deon died, I wanted to stay there, not come back here. But he is so angry all the time..."

"Hey," Aramis interrupted his angst, "it's not a son's job to tell his father what to do, you are a boy, your father thinks what he is doing is right, I'm not sure anything you say will change his mind."

"Perhaps you are right, all I can do is what my father expects of me, be a good son, a good solider," Henri said thinking it through.

"Is that what you want?" Aramis asked him, "to be like your father? To kill people the way your father does?"

"My father is a fighter, I can fight too," the boy frowned at him.

"And what do you see happening?" Aramis implored. "Your father is attacking people, where will you be in a month? Or a year? You have to decide what you can do, what difference you can make, not follow someone blindly into a war."

"Is that what you would do? Question why?" Henri asked him and it was that moment that Aramis realised how much the boy was starting to look up to him. Henri had never treated him like a prisoner, more like a friend and he was beginning to understand how much the child needed a friend, someone to give him another option than the one his father was laying out. But his question was a hard one, he would never question an order, he had pledged to serve the king and he would follow him blindly into war without hesitation.

"In your situation, yes I would," he replied at length. They were finally coming upon the village and he was glad, he was desperate for a rest.

"Because you are an honourable musketeer," Henri stated.

"You don't have to be a musketeer to be honourable," Aramis pointed out to him and they fell silent, Henri had a lot to think about.

They walked into the village and Aramis was very glad that there was several seats in the village square that he could take a rest on. The village itself was surprisingly flat, despite being up in the hills the valley bottom levelled out as it reached a small river and it was on the banks of the river the village was built. It was not a particularly large village but it was busy, people wandering the square to gossip and to shop. As he and Henri sat down they were soon the talk of the square, people were obviously familiar with Drago's son but the musketeer he brought was fascinating. Aramis smiled at any of the women that looked his way, it was his nature anyway but he had decided to go on a charm offensive, he may need some help from these people at some point.

They had not been sat long before a group of boys came running up to them, Henri's friends Aramis assumed, and he was soon being introduced to all of them. He had to admit, if it were not for the pain, the couple of hours he and Henri sat in the village with the other children where some of the most pleasant hours he had spent in a long time. The boys wanted to hear any storied he had to tell of being a musketeer, all the gallant and heroic things he had done. Aramis quickly noticed his audience was not limited to the boys, the girls were just as happy to sit and listen, as were the adults in the square though they were somewhat more discreet about listening in. The seats in front of the inn were soon filled, Aramis imagined the older gentlemen filling them had perhaps seen action themselves but they made no comments, only listened. Henri and some of his good friends were the most outspoken, questioning him constantly and quickly jumping around and acting out the scenes he was describing.

The market stalls were long gone before their audience started to leave, the children being called back by their parents for their evening meals. The spring days were lengthening, though, and the sun had yet to set.

"I suppose we ought to return," Henri said as the last of his friends ran off. The square was not empty, on the contrary the inn was getting more visitors as the day got later, but Aramis had no idea how long it would take him to make it up the hill back to the castle and there were only a couple hours until dark.

"I suppose so," he replied standing slowly as the usual pain radiated up and down his left side as he straightened before diminishing to something closer to a manageable level. He idly wondered how far he would get if he attempted to escape now, given how he felt he imagined it would not be far and instead resigned himself to returning. If he could maintain this relationship with Henri it would likely be the best way to find his escape.

"You like spending time in the village," he stated as they wandered slowly back along the road.

"Yes, there are no boys my age at the castle," Henri replied.

"It's a nice village, nice people," Aramis commented.

"Yes?"

"Yes, it has been a long time since I have spent time in a village, all quiet and peaceful in comparison to Paris," he told him.

"I have never been to Paris," Henri said, "they say it is so big, is it very busy?"

Aramis smiled, "yes, very busy, you'll never see so many people as you will in Paris."

"How do you get around if there are so many people about?"

At that he laughed, "there are many many streets and people are not all out on all of them, but every now and then there is a gathering for something and then there are so many people."

"I should like to see it," Henri said smiled.

"I'm sure you will some day," Aramis answered. The hill was starting to take his breath away and the pain was getting worse, he cursed his wound, the hill was not so very steep it should be an easy walk for him yet here he was struggling. Henri began talking about something but Aramis let it wash over him, he had no energy to reply. It felt like ages, and the last sets of stairs were exhausting, but they finally arrived back to his room and he wasted no time in lying down. Henri left quickly as his father was expecting him for dinner.

Aramis lay quietly in the darking room. He was tired but could not find sleep, the pain from his wound keeping him awake. He was wondering what would happen if it did not heal, the arrow had likely gone close to his heart and possibly damaged his lung, he had seen men crippled by less. He could not imagine his life if he were not a musketeer, there would be no point to it. He did not imagine he would be a limping old man, but if he could not breath properly or use his left arm properly it would be the same idea, a useless cripple.

The door opened not long after he had got back, it was Mirabella with some food.

"What are you doing in the dark?" she asked. Aramis looked at her, he had not thought it overly dark but she had a lantern with her and he had to admit it was somewhat dark. He sat up on the edge of the bed. She put the food down and lit the two candles in the room before turning to him. "Are you alright?"

He looked at her, incredulous.

"Sorry," she said, "you just seem quieter than usual."

"It's painful," he replied honestly, "that is all." He gratefully took the food from her, he didn't have an appetite but he was trying to keep his energy levels up.

"It will get better," she said as she sat on the chair.

"Will it?" he asked bitterly, "it has been near a week since I was injured and I am little better than I was when I woke."

She laughed gently, "the way I see it it was that less than six days ago that you were brought here close to death and yet you expect to be running around as though it hadn't happened, only a few days after you first wake up."

He looked at her for a moment, "you are right, I suppose."

"Then you should think yourself lucky," she decided, getting up to sort the things on the set of draws.

"Except I am a prisoner of a man who intends to kill me any time now," he pointed out drolly.

Mirabella froze with her back to him, "you are a musketeer, will not others come for you?" she asked.

He looked to her in surprise but with her back turned he could not read her intent. "Yes, they will come, if they can find me, if they are alive."

She turned to him, "then you only need to wait, stay out of Drago's way and wait until they come," she said and he knew she was being honest, that she worried about him.

"If... when they come it will mean Drago's downfall," he pointed out.

"I do not think everyone here will lament that," she said seriously.

"I am glad to hear that," he said managing a slight smile in thanks.

She smiled back, "is there anything else you need?"

"No, thank you."

She left the room and he was left alone. He finished the food and got up putting the empty plate on the side. He put out the candles and then went over to the window, opening it. The sun was long gone, though the night was not late. A cool draft came in and he looked up at the clear sky, the stars were bright tonight and he took pleasure in looking at them; they were difficult to see in Paris. After a while he shut the window and went to bed. Yet another day spent as a prisoner.

AN: Lots of Aramis this chapter, back to the rest of the boys tomorrow! Hope people are still enjoying it, there are quite a few more chapters to go! :-D


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Riding ever closer.

D'Artagnan saddled his horse and Athos' and led the animals out of the barn to where Porthos was getting ready also, Athos was settling the account with the gentleman running the inn. They had ridden into the hills heading south east all of yesterday, following the trail of the men that had passed the area the day they were attacked. Unfortunately, they had lost the trail in the afternoon and not found anyone on route that had any idea of where quarry had gone. They had called it a night after finding this inn and had stopped. They were a short way outside a town, D'Artagnan would call it small but it was larger than anything else they had found in these hills yet. Athos had been there before and recalled that it had a town guard that they could talk to. He had also said that the town was technically in the land belonging to Deverell's neighbour Burdett which meant they had come down the other side of the hills, which was too far, they knew Drago was in the hills.

D'Artagnan stood waiting by the horses as Porthos and Athos seemed to take ages to get ready. The injury he had sustained days before was almost painless now, occasionally it pulled when he moved the wrong way but he was sure he would be fit and fine to fight if the occasion arose. However, whilst it was not painful it had started itching, an all consuming tickle across his front he could not stop. It was tender and if he attacked it directly it hurt, which lead to a rubbing action that required his coat to be half open.

"What are you doing?" Athos asked as he approached him, putting his gloves on.

"It itches," he answered, not stopping the rubbing.

"Stop it," Athos said pulling D'Artagnan's hands away from his chest before taking the reins of his horse and checking the tack before swinging up onto it's back. Porthos also mounted and D'Artagnan followed suit. Once seated, his hand drifted back to his chest.

"Perhaps it's time the stitches came out," Porthos commented as the three of them walked out of the yard.

"They are not what itches," D'Artagnan complained.

"If it's itching then it is healing," said Athos, "It's a good thing."

"Then why is it so irritating?" he replied.

Porthos chuckled, but neither of them gave him an answer as they sped up along the road. Shortly, they arrived at the edge of the town proper, there was a guard shack at the entrance and they slowed down and stopped by it. Athos dismounted to speak to the guard as the man came out to see who they were.

"Good morning," Athos said amicably.

"Good morning to you," the man replied. He was an older man, likely somewhat older than Treville and D'Atagnan wondered how effective the town guard was. "What are musketeers doing so far south of the king?"

"We are looking for some outlaws, we know they are to be found in the Beaufort hills and have been committing some raids around here," Athos told him.

"Aye, I've heard of them," the man replied, "they haven't come down this way, this town is guarded well enough to put off raiders. But there are people come down from the villages in the hills that talk of them."

"Could you give us a direction?"

"Sure, head out of town on the south road, it crosses a river at a ford, after that take the next right on the road that goes upwards," he said.

"Thank you very much," Athos mounted his horse.

"You'll find few enough villages up there," the guard said, "winding roads and quiet houses, ain't nobody goes up them roads unless they live up there."

They simply nodded in thanks as they passed the man and rode into the town. It was somewhat busier than the places they had been to yesterday but D'Artagnan found it lacking the bustle of Paris. To his surprise he found himself missing that, he had taken to living in the city and enjoyed the atmosphere. At the market square they found the road that lead south out of the city, they stopped long enough at the stalls to find some food for the day. Neither Porthos nor Athos were convinced food would be easy to come by in the hills.

It was not long before they were leaving the town behind them and finding the road that wound back up again. Athos was leading the way and setting the pace, a slow canter that D'Artagnan found relaxing. The day was shaping up to be a good one, the sun had cleared away the morning mist and there was a light breeze that made riding pleasant.

They were on the road for an hour or so before they came across a farm stead, a young boy spotted them and ran inside and, as they slowed to a walk, a woman came out of the farm house, small children holding onto her skirts. Athos and Porthos tilted their hats but did not dismount and D'Artagnan hung back taking in the farm. He guessed any older children and the father were out working the farm. Though they had climbed into the hills they were currently on a valley floor and, given the lack of flat land here, D'Artagnan assumed they farmed livestock, likely sheep.

"Good day madam," Athos greeted.

"Sirs," the woman replied in kind, "can I help you?"

She sounded suspicious and D'Artagnan thought it likely she had no idea they were musketeers, just three well armed men on the road. Athos appeared to realise that too.

"We are the king's musketeers," he informed her, though she didn't relax. "We are looking for some outlaws we believe are operating in this area."

Her reply was that they should continue on the road, that she had heard of them but any outlaws would be further south. They got the same answer as they rode the rest of the morning but then the story changed when they reached the first decent size village in the hills at around midday.

As they rode into the village, people were just as suspicious of them as the people they had been meeting all morning. Villagers stopped what they were doing to watch them pass and D'Artagnan found it somewhat unsettling. The village was built on the hillside, space was tight and there was no evidence of an inn or market place, just a main street. Once they had got around half way along it a man on his own horse rode up and stopped in front of them, they halted.

"Good day," Athos said as the man made no attempt to introduce himself.

"Can we help you?" the man asked with a scowl. D'Artagnan nudged his horse closer to the others, the man appeared to be little threat but he was not alone, the villagers were surrounding them. He glanced at Porthos and saw he had noticed their predicament too.

"We are musketeers," Athos said loudly. "We are here looking for outlaws that are operating in this area, have any here seen them?"

"And why would musketeers be interested in outlaws this far into the middle of nowhere?" the man on the horse asked.

"They are attacking people, their leader must be brought to justice," Athos replied.

"You mean they are attacking musketeers?" came the response.

"How do you know about that?" Porthos said, frowning.

"News travels fast," he said. "How is it you come searching for them when they attack you but we have been suffering from raids for months and nobody is interested?"

"We were unaware you were having..."

"We have sent men to our gracious and kind duke asking for assistance," he interrupted Athos, "and what does the great Deverell do? Nothing! He sends no men nor takes any notice!"

"I assure you we knew nothing about this, we would happily hear your grievances against the raiders now," Athos said firmly.

"You would?" the man narrowed his eyes, and the murmuring of the crowd indicated they had not expected such an offer.

"If we are made aware of your grievances they can be presented at the outlaw's trial in Paris when he is caught. Any information you can provide that would aid our finding their hide out would be appreciated," Athos offered them. It often impressed D'Artagnan how Athos was able to persuade men with only his words.

They spent the next hour or so being given a tour of the damage the village had suffered by the outlaws. They were invited to lunch at the man's house and were able to interrogate him and the other villagers as to the identity of their attackers. It did sound like it was Drago and his men. But then D'Artagnan wondered if there were likely to be any other outlaws out here anyway.

It was well into the afternoon before they were on their way again. After that first village everyone they met had been raided by Drago and his men. Their progress was slower going as people were all too happy to lay out their grievances to the passing musketeers. Athos had started writing them down, including information such as the village name and exact damage experienced. All of the raids were bloodless, Drago and his men seemed only to have been after food, tools and weapons though they had taken apparent delight in damaging property.

As the afternoon wore on, however, the stories in the villages changed. They were being attacked less and knew more about Drago and his men. Athos had pointed out they must be close to where he was hiding, he was unlikely to attack the villages directly around him as he probably needed their loyalty and help, as a consequence the villagers were more familiar with who the outlaws actually were.

By the time it was getting late in the day they were on the road to yet another small village on a steep hillside when they came across a farmstead beside the road. An old man was leaning against a fence post looking at a pen of sheep D'Artagnan assumed he had just brought down to the farm for the night. He greeted them in quite a friendly manner.

"Good evening," he said tipping his floppy hat. They came to a halt beside him.

"And to you," Athos replied, tipping his hat also. He explained yet again why they were on the road to the man.

"Well you're in the right place," the man said.

"We are?" D'Artagnan asked looking along the road as though their goal might be in sight.

"Aye, down in the next valley is a village, the largest round these parts, Drago is there somewhere. Everyone about these parts knows that," he said.

"That is good news," Athos replied. "Thank you for your help."

They nudged their horses on.

"Where do you think you are going?" the man asked with a frown. They stopped and looked back to him.

"To the next village, we need lodgings for the night," Athos replied. D'Artagnan doubted there would be an inn in the village, the ones built up on the slopes were small and generally lacked

facilities for travellers.

"You musketeers are here to kill Drago?"

Athos glanced at them before answering the man, "we intend to take him to Paris for justice."

"The few villages in the valley you are entering are loyal to Drago, musketeers turn up there and they'll be dead by morning," he told them.

"Thanks for the warning," Athos said, "in that case we'll keep to the woods."

The valleys up here had an abundance of woodland.

"You are welcome to stop here tonight," the man said indicating his farmhouse.

"You are kind, but we couldn't impose."

"Nonsense, I don't get much company up here, just me, the wife and the animals, we'd enjoy the company," he said walking towards the farmhouse. He looked back when they didn't move. "What are ye waitin' for?"

"With all due respect," Athos said, "but how do we know we can trust you?"

The old man laughed, "ain't no one that comes up here, I assure you, and you can see I ain't going to be running off to tell anyone you are here. Them villagers don't know I exist!"

Athos looked over at him and Porthos, D'Artagnan shrugged, he didn't mind. Porthos didn't seemed bothered either because they were soon dismounting and taking their horses to the barn as the man directed. After they went into the house with the man who introduced himself as Jesper and met his wife, Rachelle, who was just as amiable as her husband. They were soon being served a hot meal and chatting over the diner table in a situation that reminded D'Artagnan of home at the farm house.

"So what has Drago done attract the attention of Paris?" Jesper asked curiously.

"He attacked musketeers travelling to meet with his brother the duke of Deverell," Porthos said as he tore a piece off the loaf of bread Rachelle offered and passed it on to D'Artagnan.

"Ah, well I can't say I'm surprised," Jesper said looking to his wife.

"I don't suppose anyone would be," she commented.

"And why not?" D'Artagnan wanted to hear their reasoning.

"Drago is not the kind of man to hide away in the hills," Jesper answered.

"No, he isn't," Rachelle agreed. "Things were quiet up here before he came."

"And when did he come?" Athos asked.

"Not two years past," Jesper said.

"And once he came everyone up here knew of it, he and his men would raid and threaten people round these parts," Rachelle continued. "Demonstrating that no one would care he was here. And the young men, well, they liked him. He offered them a chance to do something other than work the land they inherit from their families."

"People don't often leave these hills," Jesper agreed with his wife, "Don't often have the chance to become fighters, certainly not for a man with such grand plans."

"Do you think they will fight for him against musketeers?" Porthos asked them.

"I doubt most will," Rachelle said, standing to serve them yet another helping, as full as he was D'Artagnan let her put more food on his plate.

"I agree," Jesper sat back with his glass in his hand, waving off his enthusiastic food serving wife. "They like the chance to pretend they are soldiers, but fighting well trained men? Nah, they'll run back to their farms without too much fuss."

"Will you let them?" Rachelle asked them, suddenly worried. Porthos looked over to Athos who met his gaze and D'Artagnan looked questioningly between them.

"If they were not involved in the ambush of the musketeers perhaps," Athos said after a moment. "However there is also a list of grievances from those that have suffered raids so I think it will depend on what each man has done."

"And how will you attach a crime to a man?" Jesper asked obviously unimpressed.

"I do not know," Athos frowned at him, "nor will we until the situation unfolds."

"All we are really after is Drago," D'Artagnan told him, there was no point in arguing this now.

"Is that all you are really after?" Jesper said.

"What do you mean by that?" Porthos voice had an edge to it that D'Artagnan recognised as trouble.

"Three musketeers ripping these hills apart looking for one man," he said, "why suddenly so urgent?"

"Huh," Porthos grunted thoughtfully in reply with a very slight grin, D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow at him. "Drago may have taken a couple of musketeers."

"Do you know that for sure?" Rachelle asked them.

"No, why?" Athos said quickly.

Jesper and Rachelle looked at each other before Jesper answered "Drago doesn't take prisoners, and he is a cruel man, those he does take do not last long."

"How do you know that?" D'Artagnan asked them, suspicious of what they were being told.

"It is only what we hear," Jesper admitted, "the villages round here support Drago, he is often the topic of conversation down in the villages."

"Well, let's hope you are wrong," Porthos said sternly. D'Artagnan knew he was hopeful, if there was any chance Aramis was still alive Porthos was determined they would find him. But he knew Athos was not so easily convinced, he wanted to believe Aramis was alive but feared they would find him otherwise. D'Artagnan hoped desperately he was alive, that he had not died to save his life, how could he live with that?

Their night at the farmhouse was otherwise very pleasant, and, though they rose early, breakfast was almost as much of a feast as the meal the night before. Thanking their hosts profusely they rode off promptly, heading to the village Jesper said Drago resided in.

AN: So they aren't far away from Aramis at all now! Can't be that long until they meet right? :-D Thanks to all my reviewers, they are very much appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: A happy riding lesson.

Aramis sat quietly in the courtyard watching people go about their business. Henri had asked him to stay here when he was called away. He had considered doing something more than just sitting here, perhaps looking in the stables to see how easy it would be to steal a horse or striking up a conversation with a young woman but he was glad to have a minute of rest from the young boy. It was not long though until he spotted Henri coming out of a doorway across the yard, looking thoughtful.

"You all right?" he asked the boy when he came closer.

"Yes," Henri replied looking directly at Aramis for a moment. "Would you really show me?"

Aramis frowned, "show you what?"

"How to ride Blaise."

Aramis smiled, he was talking about his horse. "You can already ride, you told me that."

"Not well," Henri argued. "And not a nice horse like Blaise and not like you say you can."

"You wish to impress your father?" he asked, presumably Henri had just talked with his father and felt inadequate.

"No, not really," Henri replied unconvincingly. "Will you show me?"

"Of course," Aramis smiled at him. "Now?"

"Yes, we can ride to beyond the village, there are meadows in the woods there we can practice in," Henri looked happier.

"You want me to ride?" Aramis asked, the village was after all a challenging enough walk in his condition but the idea of trying to ride, when sitting here was painful enough, was not appealing.

"Yes, but you must give me your word me that you will not attempt to escape," Henri said.

Aramis just looked at him, "my word? I haven't given it to you before."

"We will be on horse back and you say you are a good rider," began the explanation, "you are a musketeer, an honourable man, if you promise not to escape I will believe you."

Aramis didn't reply, looking away across the busy yard.

"You will not do so?" the hurt tone returned.

"I cannot, I am a prisoner of an outlawed frenchman, a man who wishes to kill a duke and attack the king, it is my duty to try and escape," Aramis tried to tell the boy why.

"You will attempt to escape during a riding lesson with me?"

"No, but you just asked for my word not to escape at all, perhaps you need to be more specific?" Aramis gave him a slight smile. Henri was right, he would not run away from the boy.

"Ah," Henri smiled, "then will you give me your word not to escape today?"

"That I think I can do," Aramis nodded.

A short while later they where on horseback leaving the castle. Henri was on his lovely black spirited horse Blaise and Aramis had been offered a large cob type horse, dark brown with white socks, by the stable master Remy. It had taken some effort to mount in a way that did not cause him to pass out but the horse was thankfully patient. He was a solid ride but not particularly forward going, his father would have called it economical; the animal didn't put in any more effort than necessary. Were Aramis fit he would have demanded the horse respond to his slightest aid, going faster the moment he signalled but he wasn't capable enough to do so, so he sat back and enjoyed the gentle stride.

He missed his own horse.

"Will you really try to escape?" Henri asked as they rode along the road down into the valley.

"Yes," Aramis admitted to the boy after a moment.

"You could stay…. pledge allegiance to my father, I will vouch for you," Henri said quietly and hopefully.

"I have already given my oath to the king and the musketeers, I will not break that," certainly not for a man such as your father, he thought. He knew he was upsetting Henri by saying so but he would not lie to him. "Besides your father would have killed me, he has promised to do so when I am no longer useful."

"My father is not a kind man," Henri said and Aramis guessed it was the first time he had admitted that out loud.

"That is true."

They rode in silence for a moment.

"Still," Henri said in a happier tone, "for the moment I know you will not leave, you are too injured."

Aramis laughed, before sobering "and yet that is all that keeps me alive."

They rode along the road and through the village talking amicably, people greeting them as they passed. Not far beyond the village Henri rode off the road along a track trough the woods arriving almost immediately in a relatively flat meadow well hidden from the road. A few sheep grazed here but no other person was around, a lovely quiet place to practice riding.

"Well?" Henri asked once they were there.

"Show me what you can do," Aramis requested. "Use the space, start trotting and cantering, work on your transitions between them and let's see how you do."

Aramis smiled as he watched, resting on the horn of his saddle, his horse was happy to stay still. The boy had a good seat and, though he shouted out corrections, he soon decided he would have to do something more challenging. Furthermore, he had come to the conclusion he needed to get down from the horse, the pain from being in this position was getting out of hand. The problem was how to get off. Eventually he decided just to swing one leg over the back and lower himself with the other carefully. His horse didn't appear to notice but he was left holding on to the saddle as the pain radiated through him.

"Are you well?" Henri asked, coming to a halt near him.

"Yes," Aramis replied straightening, he lead his horse over to the side of the meadow where there were large rounded rocks and tied him up before coming back over to Henri. "Let's try something more challenging," he told him.

He set out some obstacles, mostly sticks as he couldn't move stones, for Henri to work round and directed him. It was not long before he was sitting on the large smooth rocks at the side of the meadow enjoying the sunshine with only the occasional direction to Henri about his riding. His horse was spirited and it was often a battle of wills which Aramis was sure would get easier as the two got to know each other. It was a testament to Henri's skill that it took nearly half an hour before he fell off. Blaise had got fed up of what they were doing, the animal had the attention span of a gnat Aramis had to admit, and threw Henri off. Aramis' worry for the boy turned to a smile as he got straight back up but when he approached the horse it backed off and Aramis laughed as every time Henri went near it it moved away. Eventually frustrated Henri ran at it and the horse trotted off into the woods.

"Aramis!" Henri complained as Aramis laughed. "See! He hates me."

"It just takes time," Aramis told him, "he's a smart animal, you were unbalanced and he took advantage, you have to keep him interested"

"And now he has run away!"

"He won't have gone far," Aramis smiled at his frown. "Go find him," he indicated across the field where the horse had gone.

Aramis chuckled as the boy ran off. He would either find the animal or they would probably find it at the stable later. Hopefully the former, he didn't want Henri to be embarrassed back at the castle. Beside him his horse jolted out of it's doze and looked to the road, a moment later Aramis heard why; riders were coming. He got up with a wince and walked towards the road keeping himself hidden behind the bushes and trees, he had no idea who may be coming but he wouldn't be able to defend himself if they were not friendly. Reaching the road he could hear several horses trotting towards the village, they passed where he was hidden and his heart leapt, it was Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan!

He had never felt such relief, they were obviously all alive and well. Not killed in battle or under some mudslide. He couldn't stop the smile as he stepped out of the trees behind them.

"You took your time," he called out teasingly.

Ahead of him the riders stopped, spinning around to face him, their expressions were priceless. Shock giving way to grins and relief. They immediately rode back over, dismounting their horses before they had even halted.

"You're alive," Porthos said with a chuckle he made to embrace him but Aramis held up his hand to stop him, successfully halting all three before they hugged him .

"We thought you were dead," D'Artagnan commented, his bright smile slowly morphing into a serious look as he took in Aramis' state.

"You look terrible," Athos said and his smile too diminished into a worried look.

"Then I look better than I feel," Aramis told them lightly reaching out to clap Porthos on the shoulder with his good arm. "I feared you all were dead."

"Not a chance," Porthos replied, returning the gesture gingerly. "How badly are you injured?" he asked inspecting him carefully, they all were and Aramis rolled his eyes. Resting his arm in the sling of fabric was probably not convincing.

"Just slightly less water tight than before that's all," Aramis joked badly, it was not the first time they had heard it and it didn't fly this time anymore than it had before.

"Aramis," Athos said sternly, as Porthos tried to pull away the edges of his jacket and Aramis pushed away his mother-hen hands.

"The arrow went in the back, came out the side," he indicated where, "and amazingly I'm still alive. The ambush, the mudslide... how many did Drago kill?"

The others exchanged glances before accepting the change of subject.

"Five in the mudslide, three others killed in the fighting," Athos told him, "did he take Gill?"

"Yes," Aramis said sadly. "He's dead.

"Then he has killed nine musketeers," Porthos said angrily.

"Why did he keep you alive?" D'Artagnan asked.

"He didn't," Aramis said cryptically.

A call came from the woods, "Aramis?"

They all looked to where it came from but Aramis made no move to reply. Henri called again, coming closer.

"Are you a prisoner?" Athos asked him, none of them moved, following Aramis' lead as to whether they were in danger.

Aramis sighed, "yes."

"Aramis?" Henri appeared on the road and immediately drew his sword as he saw the musketeers. "What's going on here?"

Beside Aramis the other three drew their swords, the boy was no challenge to them but it was habit to defend themselves from an unknown threat.

"Henri," Aramis said, stepping closer to him and indicating for him to put his weapon down, he would rather this didn't get out of control.

"Who are they?" Henri asked not letting down his guard.

"Musketeers," he told him. "My friends," more specifically.

"Why are they here?"

"We were looking for Aramis," Athos said matter of factly.

"And now that you have found him?" Henri raised his sword a little higher.

Athos didn't reply straight away and Aramis looked to him, he knew they were likely not just here for him. Whether or not they located him, Drago was still to be sorted out.

"We rescue him," D'Artagnan said lightly, looking to Pothos with a slight smile, Porthos smiled back. Despited the boy's stance all three of them were unconsciously lowering their weapons.

"You gave me your word," Henri said angrily.

"I did not know they would appear," he told him, stepping closer despite the sword. "And I have not broken my word. Now put away your sword."

Henri thought for a moment before finally doing as he was told. Aramis gave him a nod. Behind him he could hear the other swords being put away.

"Henri this is Porthos, Athos and D'Artagnan," he said turning to indicate his friends, then "this is Henri, son of Drago."

Their eye's widened a bit at that, "Pleasure," Porthos said, meeting Aramis' gaze with a questioning one.

"Henri and I were out today for a riding lesson," Aramis told them, as though it was perfectly normal.

"Then you aren't a prisoner?" D'Artagnan asked with a frown.

"He is," Henri replied quickly, looking to Aramis for reassurance. "My father has left him in my charge and he gave his word he would not escape while we were out."

"You did?" Athos raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Aramis answered shortly. He indicated his injury, "I wouldn't exactly get far," he pointed out, irritated that they might believe he was choosing to stay.

"Now that they are here, you will leave with them?" Henri turned to him. Aramis looked away, surely Henri knew things would not be so easy?

"It isn't that simple," he told him straight. Henri frowned again looking to the musketeers. Aramis looked to them too. "Is anything to be done about Drago?"

Athos looked thoughtfully at the boy and then to Aramis before explaining, "A force is heading this way looking for Drago."

"Then you should leave and not come back," Henri said to him and Aramis knew he was just trying to protect his father. "I will not hold you to your promise."

He was distracted from replying by the sound of someone further up the road.

"We should get off the road," Porthos said, looking in the same direction.

"This way," Aramis lead them back to the meadow he and Henri had been using. He grit his teeth and tried to hide his winces from the others, fortunately they were behind him leading their mounts. "You found him," he commented happily as he saw Henri's horse tied up by his horse.

"You were right, he was not far," Henri explained.

They stopped by the other horses and were quiet while the voices on the road past. Aramis ignored how the others watched him carefully, he was just glad they were here.

"You intend to kill my father," Henri half stated, half asked, breaking the silence.

"No," Athos replied, "we would take him to Paris to face justice."

"Where the king will kill him!"

"Most likely he would be sentenced to death, yes" Athos said after a moment or two of silence.

"Your father has killed men, Henri," Aramis said, trying to calm the boy.

"He is a warrior, he fights. You have killed men!" Henri argued.

"You told me that you once wanted to be a musketeer, you said musketeers are honourable, and you are right, we fight for king and country. We do not ambush good men on the road, we do not frighten villagers, we do not kill defenceless captives," he took a breath, "and we do our duty."

"He is my father," Henri said, upset.

Aramis stepped closer, the boy had been questioning his father's ways since he had met him, he only needed to push him the rest of the way.

"He is a bad man, you are not," he told him. "Your father will not suceed in his plans. You have to chose who your duty is to, your father or your country."

"And if I chose my father?" Henri looked at the other musketeers, "will you kill me here?"

"I don't know what will happen," Aramis admitted, "but we won't stop you leaving."

"Aramis," Porthos cautioned stepping closer.

"What difference will it make?" he asked Porthos rhetorically, Porthos looked unconvinced.

"Without my father I have nothing," Henri said interrupted.

"You have other family, your uncle for instance," Aramis pointed out. "And you are a good fighter,

when you are old enough I'm sure the musketeers will have a place for you, you will not be alone" he smiled at the boy.

"You promise?" Henri asked him obviously still unsure. Aramis reached out and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You have my word," he replied seriously.

Henri gave a wan smile, "then I suppose I will choose to help you."

AN: So they have found found each other! Perhaps the chapter people were waiting for? Now they just have to figure out what to do about Drago!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: A plan comes together.

Porthos had been hoping they would reach this village soon when a voice he thought he would not hear again rang out. The three of them had turned immediately to see a smiling Aramis stood behind them in the road. It had been a long time since he felt so much joy upon seeing someone and utter relief had come over him as they trotted back to their lost brother. His fears these last long days were unfounded, Aramis was not dead, his precious family not broken and here they were back together again. It had quickly become quite obvious to the three of them how badly injured Aramis was, he looked terrible, his arm resting in a sling, and had walked very slowly off the road to the meadow. He shouldn't have been surprised he told himself, they had assumed he was unlikely to survive the arrow they had seen plant itself in his back so the state he was in wasn't unexpected.

If his condition wasn't surprising the boy he was with was. The son of Drago, the man they were after. Aramis had obviously struck up quite a relationship with the boy, and if that is what had kept him alive Pothos was not going to complain. Still, when Aramis told the boy he was free to return to the castle Porthos was sure it was going a bit far. His fears were unfounded moments later when the boy offered to help them. Aramis had always been a good judge of character he conceded.

"So now what?" Henri asked Aramis, obviously somewhat nervous of the three of them. They looked to Aramis for direction, they were disinclined to talk in front of the child, and he glanced at them before answering him.

"Why don't you get back on Blaise and try that exercise again?" Aramis smiled again. "This time without falling off."

Henri looked thoughtful for a moment before stepping closer to Aramis, "what if I don't want to?" he asked sheepishly.

"You can't let him win," Aramis replied, turning away from the boy and Porthos let him pass as he realised he was just going to sit on the rocks. "If you do he'll just do it again."

"Fine," Henri conceded, "but if I fall and he runs off again you can find my horse."

"No, but I'll lend you my horse if you like," Aramis indicated the quiet animal tethered at the rocks. Porthos smiled, it was a typical Aramis answer.

"He's Remy's horse," the boy replied with a smile as he took the other horse also tethered there and mounted it, trotting off across the meadow.

"Do you trust him?" Athos asked once the boy was far enough away.

"He saved my life," Aramis replied, more distracted with sitting down.

"That's not an answer," Porthos commented, wincing in empathy as Aramis painfully sat down on a rock and going over to sit on one next to him. Athos and D'Artagnan sat down too.

Aramis sighed, looking over to the boy on the horse, "he's not his father, he cares about people, cares for his country. But asking a boy to choose between what's right and his father? I don't know."

"What about Drago's forces?" D'Artagnan asked, leaning forwards. "How many men does he have?"

"Perhaps two hundred, no more than fifty of those have any training and experience, they are mainly from the surrounding villages," Aramis looked between them. "Does Deverell send men?"

"Yes," Athos told him, "Captain Treville is travelling with him and a force of musketeers, once they know where we are they should be here tomorrow or the day after."

"Musketeers and Deverell's trained men should be able to deal with his forces," Porthos agreed.

"Not so fast," Aramis interrupted, "Drago has a castle."

"A castle?" Porthos repeated, they had to attack a castle? That would complicate things.

"Build on the hillside, it's old but it'll hold up to an attack."

"It could take days for forces enough to siege a castle to arrive," D'Artagnan said, looking to Athos.

"And months to flush him out," Porthos agreed, this man was a slippery devil.

"Good job you have a man on the inside then," Aramis said with a smile.

"No," Athos said immediately.

"Definitely not," Porthos agreed.

"You are not going back," Athos continued.

"If I don't return Drago will know something is wrong," Aramis pointed out and Porthos' stomach plummeted, he was right.

"We already lost you once," D'Artagnan said, and Porthos could see the barely disguised anguish on his face at the memory.

"If I walk away there will be no swift end to this," Aramis argued. "How many more men, our brothers, will die? But if I go back the gates can be opened from the inside and the musketeers can come straight in."

"You said Drago is all too happy to kill you," Porthos didn't like this plan, he was not willing to loose Aramis again.

"Not while Henri wants me alive."

"You are asking him to chose you over his father," Athos said and Porthos knew he didn't like it either.

Aramis had no answer for that, he looked away obviously frustrated.

"Exactly how badly injured are you?" Athos asked.

"I can do this," Aramis looked to Athos and dodged the question.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Porthos said, he wasn't convinced Aramis could even stand if he asked it of him. Still he was wary of doubting him. "Could you fight?"

"I have no weapons," Aramis replied, getting irritated.

"And if you did?" Athos challenged him.

"I can shoot," Aramis offered.

Athos looked to him and Porthos knew what he was thinking, they should take Aramis and leave now. Race back to Paris with the brother they had thought dead, or, looking at Aramis, limp back. But it was a selfish thought, they had to take Drago back to Paris and Aramis was right, having him inside the castle would be the easiest method.

"What do you want to hear?" Aramis was getting angry at them. "That I can barely walk? That riding a horse is near impossible? That just sitting here breathing with cracked ribs is agony?" he took a breath controlling himself, "but I'm not dead and I won't just ride away to safety, not with Drago still terrorising people here."

They fell silent for a moment after that.

"Fine, if that's what you want," Athos finally said, "but we are not leaving you here alone."

"Definitely not," Porthos agreed, at least if they stayed they would be closer to provide aid even if getting into the castle quickly was unlikely. They would have to figure out how close they could get.

"Except someone needs to tell Treville where we are," D'Artagnan pointed out. Porthos looked at him and D'Artagnan just raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not leaving," Porthos stated, he had just found Aramis, he wasn't leaving him again.

D'Artagnan looked to Athos but he didn't look back, considering the situation. Porthos knew he had no wish to leave Aramis either.

"I'll go," D'Artagnan offered after a moment. "I'm probably the faster rider anyway."

"Alone?" Athos gave him an unconvinced look. "You are a magnet for trouble."

Porthos laughed and beside him Aramis smiled. D'Artagnan rolled his eyes but they all knew Athos was good at worrying about them, besides it wasn't entirely untrue.

"I won't get into trouble, not this time," he said, looking distractedly at where Aramis was wounded. Porthos' eyes met Athos', D'Artagnan still blamed himself for that?

"I feel that was aimed at me," Aramis didn't miss it either, his questioning gaze met Porthos' and Porthos leant back, he was going to let D'Artagnan explain this one.

D'Artagnan sighed but when no one said anything he explained. "Were it not because of me you would not be injured."

"That is not true," Athos disagreed.

"How so?" Aramis asked with a frown.

"If you had not stepped in front of me that arrow would have not hit you."

"You don't know that," Porthos joined Athos in disagreeing with him but they had already told him he was not to blame, perhaps Aramis would have more success.

"Is that what happened?" Aramis said thoughtfully, looking down at his injuries.

"You don't remember?" Porthos asked him.

"Not really, there are parts I remember but being hit, the mudslide..." Aramis shook his head trailing off.

"You don't remember coming to my aid?" D'Artagnan queried.

"I remember the ambush and I think after that we were fighting together," Aramis replied. "When did the mudslide come?"

"Pretty much straight after you were hit," D'Artagnan said looking anguished.

"Stop," Aramis said seriously. "If you think I blame you I do not, nor, if my action saved your life, would I ever regret it."

Whatever reply D'Artagnan was about to give was interrupted by Henri.

"Aramis!" he called excitedly from where he was across the meadow. "Did you see what we did?"

"No," Aramis answered. "Why don't you do it again?"

Henri duly trotted over and carefully got his horse to perform the manoeuvre again, neatly stepping the animal backwards.

"Much better," Aramis praised him. "Look, he is listening to you."

"You're a good rider," Porthos offered, the boy seemed perfectly capable of controlling a headstrong animal.

"Thanks," Henri said shyly, taking in the presence of the three other musketeers. "Have you finished talking?"

"For the most part," Aramis said.

"Then are you leaving or staying?"

"If I leave your father will know the musketeers are here," Aramis told the boy.

"So then you want to go back to the castle?" Henri asked and it seemed to Porthos that Aramis was important to the boy.

"If your father isn't going to kill me," Aramis replied lightly but the answer was important to all of them and they listened for Henri's answer.

Henri slid off his horse, stepping closer to them. "Well, you are my prisoner, he has said that I am responsible for you."

"Why?" D'Artagnan asked sharply, not understanding why a father would give his child a prisoner.

"What?" Henri was stumped by the question.

Beside him Aramis sighed at D'Artagnan's inopportune question and Porthos smiled slightly, as did Athos. He wasn't going to complain; he wanted to hear that answer too. The more they knew about what was going on the better.

"Why did your father give you a prisoner?" D'Artagnan clarified.

"Well he wasn't going to," Henri said after a moment or two, looking to Aramis as if for direction. "But father wanted answers from the musketeers and Aramis wasn't going to be able to give them because when he arrived he was all but dead. I asked if I could help him."

"And so I became a lesson for Henri to learn," Aramis interrupted not sounding particularly happy about that.

"He said I was old enough to take responsibility for a prisoner if I wished," Henri frowned at what Aramis had said. "But that I was just going to watch you die, except you didn't."

"So it would appear," Aramis said with a sigh.

"You could sound happier about that," Porthos told him giving him a nudge, though he didn't take the comment seriously, Aramis was just frustrated.

"So now you are my prisoner and my father may not do anything against you without my permission," Henri said.

"Are we to believe that will that stop him from killing Aramis?" Athos asked him.

"I do not wish him to."

"Drago did say he would not kill me as long as I was of interest to Henri," Aramis said.

"He told you that?" this was obviously news to Henri.

"Yes, during that delightful chat we had the other day."

Henri looked thoughtful at that and Porthos could understand that this was probably difficult for him. Plotting against his father.

"So we go back," Henri said, "avoid my father, and then what?"

"A force is coming here to take your father into custody," Aramis told him. "When they get here we open the gates and let them in."

For a moment Henri looked shocked, "just like that?"

"If we can walk straight into the castle we can hopefully catch your father without harming anyone," Porthos told the boy.

"I suppose that makes sense," Henri replied. He glanced around the clearing. "We should probably be going before someone wonders where we are."

They all stood, Aramis somewhat carefully, and went to their horses.

"Athos and Porthos would like to stay around to keep an eye on me," Aramis said to Henri with a slight smile.

"Oh, out here or do they want to come in the castle?" Henri asked as he mounted his horse.

"How would we get in the castle?" Porthos questioned him and the boy seemed to freeze as though he had just revealed something he shouldn't.

"Henri?" Aramis said sternly.

"There are tunnels that lead into the castle," Henri admitted.

"Tunnels," Aramis frowned at the boy.

"Me and my friends discovered them in the village, they lead underneath the castle, they are old and difficult to travel through," Henri told them, "but nobody else knows they are there. You could easily sneak in that way, I often have."

Porthos looked over at Aramis and Athos. "Tunnels would make it a lot easier," he said.

"We could come in the castle?" Athos asked Aramis and Henri.

"It big and empty," Aramis confirmed. "you could easily hide from Drago's men, if Henri agreed?"

"It would be safest," the boy agreed. "If they are there to stop my father killing you."

"Then we are all agreed," Athos said, "if Henri will show us where these tunnels are?"

"Of course," Henri replied and Porthos noticed he once again looked to Aramis to ensure he agreed.

"D'Artagnan, if you come and see where the tunnel entrance is then you will be able to come in and tell us when Treville and the men get here," Athos told him.

"To the tunnels then," Aramis said untying his horse and Porthos wondered how he was going to mount it. "Preferably by a discreet path," he said kindly to Henri.

"It would be helpful if your friends did not look so much like musketeers," Henri replied and Aramis turned to scrutinise them. Porthos gave him a look, they were musketeers, what did he expect?

"Perhaps you could loose the blue?" Aramis said indicating their cloaks, D'Artagnan chuckled.

"It's going to take more than that," Henri said with a smile, turning his horse and walking away.

Porthos took off his cloak rolling it up and fastening on his saddle bags, a thought occurred to him and he smiled as he got Aramis' hat out of his bags and reshaping it.

"Aramis," he said as he approached him, "missing something?"

Aramis smiled widely as he handed it over, but was obviously unimpressed by it's condition, "you couldn't look after it properly?" he teased as he put it on.

"You need help?" Porthos asked him, nodding towards his horse.

"Just need a rock," Aramis said moving past him to lead his horse to an appropriate mounting block. Porthos looked at Athos and D'Artagnan, who had both mounted, and they didn't look convinced either.

Porthos didn't know whether Aramis had practiced mounting with his injury and lack of left arm or was just pretending because they were there but his horse was very patient as he carefully climbed on. He couldn't hide how painful it was as he froze on top of his horse presumably waiting for the pain to pass. Porthos gave him an unimpressed look and received a pathetic smile in response. He mounted his own horse and the five of them set off, Henri leading them through woodland trails to the tunnels.

AN: A lot of conversation in this chapter but hopefully it works! I hope people are still enjoying it. Much thanks to my reviewers, feel free to leave more! :-D


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Under the noses of the enemy.

Aramis soon discovered riding the undulating woodland trails was not as comfortable as the road, in fact it was exceedingly painful. But then that was nothing new. He sighed and grabbed the front of his saddle to brace himself as the path went downwards. He was riding behind Henri, or at least he was trying to, his horse was in no rush and it was only Porthos riding directly behind them that seemed to keep the animal moving. As far as he could tell they were skirting around the village, they had just crossed a thankfully empty road and were now heading in the general direction of the castle.

To his great relief they soon came to a stop in a small clearing at the bottom of a steep rock face that appeared to be the sharp end of a gently sloping hill. Somewhere behind them Aramis could hear the river.

"It's here," Henri said swinging off his horse and Aramis held his hand out to take the reins. The others dismounted handing their reins to D'Artagnan, Aramis wanted to get down but didn't think he would be able to get back up if he did. The boy ran over to rock face and pulled branches away from what Aramis now realised was a doorway, built in a stone surround jutting out of the rocks. It was not particularly large but was well hidden. It would have once made a good escape, he mused, exiting so close to the river.

"This is directly under the castle?" Athos asked looking upwards, but it was not possible to see the castle through the woods.

"Almost," Henri replied, pushing open the door, "it goes someway up but also a long way back, the castle is a couple hundred feet away as the crow flies. You might want to check you can fit through," he said looking the two of them up and down.

D'Artagnan smiled and when Aramis noticed he couldn't help one appearing either smile. Though tall, D'Artagnan was the slimmest of them and would make the most sense to send through the tunnels. Aramis caught D'Artagnan's eye and nodded towards the tunnels, still smiling D'Artagnan shook his head in the negative to say he wasn't tempted.

In front of them Athos gave Porthos a look but when he made no move, he sighed and turned to Henri, "are there candles?" he asked.

"There is a lantern," Heni replied leaning in the small doorway and reappearing with it.

Shortly it was lit and Athos stepped inside with it.

"Do you think they can fit?" Aramis asked Henri as they waited.

"It's tight and damaged in places but they aren't fat so I don't see why not," he said stepping over to rub his horse's nose.

"Hear that Porthos?" Aramis grinned at him, enjoying how the boy phrased it, "you are not fat."

"Great," Porthos said sarcastically, looking into the tunnels unhappily, "it doesn't look like anyone but boys have used this tunnel in years."

D'Artagnan frowned, "are you afraid of tight spaces?"

"No," Porthos said quickly, "but I have healthy dislike of getting stuck."

"If the tunnel has held all this time I'm sure it will continue to do so," D'Artagnan said sensibly.

"I agree," Aramis smiled at him teasingly again.

Porthos just frowned at him but was saved from retorting as Athos reappeared. "Well?"

"Looks passable enough," he said, running a hand through his hair and frowning when dust went everywhere, "at least as far as I can see."

"The tunnel gets better closer to the castle," Henri said.

"Where does it come out?" Aramis asked him.

"In the lower cellars," was the reply, "the rooms down there are not used, if they wait in the room it comes out in when we get back we can go down and fetch them. Then go up some of the service stairs to your room."

"At least that's the theory," Aramis commented sitting back. Henri made it sound very simple, in his experience things were never simple.

"How easy is it to move around the castle without being seen?" Athos asked the two of them.

"It is a big empty castle," Aramis admitted.

"We can avoid my fathers guards easily," Henri told him, "and most of the servants would say nothing if we came across them."

"Most?" Porthos repeated.

"Well, if you looked less like musketeers they would probably think nothing of it," Henri said pulling a face.

Athos and Porthos looked to him with expressions that said they didn't know how to reply to that and Aramis tried to suppress another grin, god he had missed them. "He has a point," he told them lightly, indicating their clothing. Their gazes took in an amused D'Artagnan before turning to each other.

"We'll attempt to look less like musketeers," Athos finally agreed, loosening his patterned shoulder guard.

"We will?" Porthos raised an eyebrow.

"We can take our kit up in bags and put it back on later," Athos stepped over to his horse taking what he needed off the animal and putting his things in a cloth bag. Porthos sighed and joined him.

"What are you going to do with the horses?" D'Artagnan asked and Porthos and Athos froze, they hadn't thought of that, they all of them looked to Henri.

"There is an old farm house through the trees," Henri said pointing towards the river, "it has old corals that should hold them for a while."

"What if someone finds them?" Athos asked.

"No one comes up here, who would find them?" he sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Lead on Henri," Aramis said before someone answered him.

And Henri did lead them to a run down farm. After a check of the fences Athos and Porthos chose where to leave their horses and ensured the water trough was full before stowing their tack in the farm house. Within half an hour they were ready to split up.

"You know where you are going?" Athos asked D'Artagnan.

"Vaguely," D'Artagnan answered as he mounted.

"Just follow the roads north, it won't be far until you hit the large road going west to Deverell's town, I pointed it out on the way down. Treville should already be on that road somewhere," Athos told him.

"If he is we should be here by tomorrow," D'Artagnan said. "And I'll come through the tunnel to find you."

"Good, we'll be waiting," Athos nodded.

"Just make sure you're all alive when I do okay?" he said looking at them all seriously. Aramis smiled as he met D'Artagnan's eye.

"I've survived this far," he joked, D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and looked to the others.

"We'll keep him alive," Porthos reassured him.

D'Artagnan nodded, "Then I'll see you tomorrow," he turned his horse to leave.

"And D'Artagnan?" Athos said.

"Yes?"

"Be careful," he reminded him.

"Always," D'Artagnan gave a slight smile then, before trotting off through the forest.

Once he was out of sight Aramis looked to the others, Henri was mounting his horse. "I'll see you shortly," he said, he had to admit now he had found them he was reluctant to split up again, their expressions indicated they felt the same.

"You will," Athos replied.

"You be careful too," Porthos told him as Aramis clicked at his horse to move. It did so, content enough to follow Blaise again and he tilted his hat good bye.

"Have fun in the tunnels," he jested.

Henri lead the two of them back to the road and they turned up it to the castle. It was not yet midday but it was warm with the sun overhead.

"You are glad to see your friends," Henri commented as they walked side by side slowly onwards.

"Very much so," he replied without hesitation.

"Because you thought they were dead," Henri stated.

"I feared they might be, I also feared they would not come in time," he admitted to the boy.

"You mean before my father killed you?" Henri asked honestly but Aramis did not reply instead looking forward. It was a difficult conversation; not only for Henri to understand what his father did to people but for him to accept that he had felt afraid being so badly injured without the others there. "I would not have let him," Henri said emphatically.

"I believe you," Aramis assured him. "I am also glad you are helping us. I understand it's difficult to go against your father."

"It's not really," Henri brushed it off unconvincingly, "you are right, I don't want to grow up like my father."

"Still it is brave of you," Aramis tipped his hat to a group of washer women coming down from the castle, smiling as they giggled.

"My father speaks to me constantly about taking responsibility for people, about being in charge, if the musketeers are coming anyway then helping them would be the best way keep people safe," he said. "Father wouldn't like that, he would see everyone die in this castle before he gave in."

"You are not like your father," Aramis told him, whilst he didn't know if Drago loved the boy he certainly had high expectations of a fourteen year old.

They rode through the castle gates and Aramis slid off his horse's back gingerly, he had been sat on the animal too long and was left holding the saddle again as he waited for the spasming pain to pass. The man in charge of the stables came to get their horses, Remy, the man that had leant him the horse he was riding.

"You alright?" he asked kindly.

"Yes," Aramis forced himself to straighten and follow a waiting Henri, giving Remy a wan smile.

"Come on," Henri said to him and they went in the door to the kitchens. Aramis followed Henri through the maze of the lower floors, they went down a further flight of stairs into the completely empty lower cellars, Henri leading the way with a lantern. Aramis wasn't sure he would be able to find the way back they came but the boy obviously knew the warren well and they soon saw the glow of a light ahead. They went round the corner to find themselves facing two pistols and behind those, Athos and Porthos.

"Hello to you too," Aramis said in greeting.

"You alone?" Athos asked as they put away the guns.

"Yes," Henri answered, "no one comes down here."

"Based on the path we came they would be hard pressed to find it," Aramis said readjusting his arm with a wince, he could do with a rest. "Tunnel easily passable?"

"For the most part," Porthos answered gruffly.

"To get upstairs we'll have to go up the back service stairway and hopefully no one will see us," Herni told them.

"Hopefully?" Athos wasn't impressed as they set off following Henri.

"Well, I don't know who's around," the boy replied, having no better answer and Aramis gave Athos a look to say 'drop it', there was after all no other way they could go.

Henri led them up some stairs and then another set to the ground floor before they came across anyone. As far as Aramis could tell they were somewhere behind the main hall and in the area of the castle with the most armed men, for the first time he doubted Henri's intentions, was this the only way they could have come? They had barely reached come out of the stairwell when they were noticed.

"Henri!" it was Drago.

Athos and Porthos froze, hidden as they were round the corner down the stairwell, and Aramis pushed Henri forward so the two of them were a step or two away from the hiding place. A glance up and down the corridor suggested they had just been unlucky, Drago had been walking along a corridor perpendicular to this one and had spotted them down it, no one else was down here. Unfortunately Drago was not alone, he had been walking with some of his men who waited at the junction as their master spoke to his son.

"Father," Henri replied, glancing at Aramis in alarm but Aramis made no comment to him.

"And Aramis, the musketeer," Drago sneered as he stopped in front of them. Aramis desperately hoped Athos and Porthos would contain themselves and stay hidden. "Where have you been?" his gaze turned to his son.

"The village, sir," Henri answered, somewhat stretching the truth.

"Indeed?" he commented but did not say anything further on the matter, turning to Aramis. "We have heard rumours of musketeers in the hills."

"Musketeers?" Henri interrupted putting surprise into his voice, indeed Aramis was surprised Drago had noticed musketeers about. "But surely they will not find us?"

"Musketeers are not so smart," Drago said smirking at Aramis, "there are only a couple of them, not enough to bother us. Do they search for you?"

"I know not," Aramis answered him, he had no desire to be having this conversation, Drago was unpredictable.

"My men tell me musketeers are loyal to one another, like a pack of dogs, so I ask you will they find you here?" Drago said in a quieter tone.

"And I tell you that I know not," Aramis repeated not rising to his insults, which obviously irritated Drago.

"I should kill you and be rid of the trouble," Drago growled, "and then they will not find you."

"If they think I am alive they will be looking for me, if they think I am dead they will not, either way it will make no difference if I am alive or not since they cannot know which is true," Aramis pointed out to him, letting his own anger at Drago through.

"But it would be so much more enjoyable to kill you," Drago smirked again stepping closer until Aramis took a step back.

"Father you said you would not kill him!" Henri exclaimed stepping forward in alarm.

"Did I?" Drago gritted his teeth, eye's not leaving Aramis'.

"Yes, you said he was my responsibility!" Henri took his father's arm and Drago acquiesced, stepping back.

"You are right I did," he said, "you still wish it so?"

"Yes, I will not kill him for nothing," Henri told him boldly.

"Fine," he said after a long pause, "so be it." Drago stepped back apparently giving up this fight. "Henri, you and I should have some time alone together this afternoon, return your prisoner to his room and come find me."

"Yes father," Henri replied reluctantly as Drago turned and stalked off round the corner, his men following.

After a moment they were gone and the corridor quiet.

Aramis gave Henri a pat on the shoulder before turning back to where Athos and Porthos were hidden. Both of them were stood tensely with their pistols in their hands, though they put them away when he appeared.

"That was close," Porthos said as an admittance of how near they had been to revealing themselves.

"Too close," Aramis agreed. "Come on Henri, let's go."

The rest of the journey to the room was uneventful and as they entered it Aramis was all too pleased to see the bed, quickly sitting upon it. Henri closed the door behind them and with the four of them in there it suddenly seem crowded.

"So this is where you've been," Porthos said as he and Athos took in the small room, "nice view."

"Get used to it," Aramis told him, reclining against the headboard, "there isn't much else to do."

They all froze at a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Henri asked.

"Henri?" it was Mirabella, "I brought Aramis' lunch."

Aramis gave Henri a shrug and the boy sighed before opening the door only wide enough to talk to her.

"Mirabella," he appeared to have no idea what to say.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"We, er, met some people in the village," he started.

"What are you on about?" she asked. "Won't you let me in? This tray is heavy."

"Let her in Henri," Aramis asked him putting a hand up to forestall any movements by Athos and Porthos. He was pretty sure she would not betray them after the conversations they'd had before. Henri opened the door and Mirabella bustled in only to gasp as she saw the strangers. "Mirabella..."

"Your friends?" she interrupted moving to put the tray down on the chest on draws before turning to them.

"Yes," Aramis replied, "this is Porthos and Athos," he indicated them. "This is Mirabella."

"Sirs," she greeted them before turning to Henri. "How did you get them in here?"

"They snuck in through some tunnels," Henri explained.

"If your father finds out!"

"He won't, not if you don't say anything," Henri pleaded.

"Well of course I won't, but this is very foolish, what were you thinking!"

"Mirabella," Aramis tried to interrupt her tirade.

"Don't you start," she hushed him and Aramis ignored Porthos' chuckle.

"Mirabella, more musketeers are coming, they will attack us but if the gate is opened then it will be quick and less people will die," Henri blurted out.

"That is why you are here?" Mirabella asked Athos and Porthos.

"Yes," Athos replied, "as well to keep an eye on Aramis."

"Well, I shall be glad for the help there," Mirabella smiled at Aramis and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Do musketeers really come?"

"Yes, they are after Drago, they will be here soon," Aramis told her.

"Oh Henri," Mirabella turned to the boy reaching to hug him, "you are nothing like your father, you are so very brave, your mother would be proud of you I think."

"Really?" he asked her.

"Of course."

"I had better go, father asked for me," Henri said, "Mirabella perhaps you could find a larger room?"

"Very well," she said as he left. Then she turned to them, "I had better bring up more food and once you have eaten you'll need those bandages changing."

"In that case I am not hungry," he told her.

"Very funny," she said before leaving the room.

"I wasn't joking," Aramis said to a closed door.

"Do you trust her?" Athos asked as he sat on the one chair in the room, Porthos sat on the end of the bed.

"Yes," he replied, they didn't look convinced so he continued. "Aside from Drago's soldiers most people here do not seem to like him, he is cruel and violent. People like Mirabella have no wish for a long battle with the musketeers."

"She seems friendly enough," Porthos said the Athos.

"Let's hope so," Athos agreed.

It was not long before Mirabella returned. She had found a larger room down the hall and directed them to move things, including the bedding as the room they were going to had none, there appeared to be a lot of unused rooms up on the corridor. There were three beds in the room and several chairs by a small table. Mirabella directed them to eat the food she brought while she went to find bedding for the other beds. She returned several times with straw mattresses and blankets and, to Aramis' dismay, clean water and bandages.

"Come on," she said as he took ages over the last few bits of his lunch, "I haven't all day."

He sighed but none the less stood and handed her the bowl. He took off his jacket and sat back one of the beds, he couldn't remove his shirt over his head by himself and the pain of moving his shoulder upwards enough for Mirabella to get it off was quite enough.

"You should be pleased Aramis," Athos commented as he and Porthos watched on, "you don't usually have someone so pretty to tend you."

"Mirabella is quite an improvement on our ugly mugs," Porthos grinned at her.

Aramis just frowned at them, he had not energy to jest. He tried to ignore how their sharp eyes took in his injuries as Mirabella removed the bandages, he had bled slightly again and they were painful to pull away but wounds seemed to be healing, all be it slowly. He was quite spectacularly bruised though, he wasn't sure much of his torso was the right colour at the moment. Mirabella was efficient and within minutes she was done and helping him back into his shirt.

"You are too warm again," she said as he move his head away from her roaming hand, "you should not have been out so long."

"I'm fine," he replied settling his shirt properly.

"You should get some rest."

"I intend to," he told her as she went to get the empty lunch bowls, "thank you."

"Hmm," she prepared to leave. "Is there anything else you need?" she asked the three of them.

"No, I think we are set, thank you" Athos answered for them.

"I'll try to come by in a few hours, but if not I'll bring your dinner by later," she left shutting the door behind her.

Aramis groaned as he lay back on the bed, it felt good to be lying down, Mirabella was right he had been up and about for too long today.

"You okay?" Porthos asked and Aramis looked over at him and Athos who were sitting at the table.

"I miss wine," he complained looking back at the ceiling. Drinking himself into a painless stupor was very tempting right now.

"You're lucky to be alive," Athos stated.

"Tell me that again when it hurts less."

"Aramis," Athos used his no nonsense voice.

"I woke up here alone," he told them frankly, "and when they told me of the mudslide I began to fear you all were dead, I did not think it would take you so long to find me. I feared some cruel twist of fate had allowed me to live while you did not."

"We did not know he had taken you," Porthos replied and Aramis looked back over to them to see the anguish in their eyes. "We thought you were buried under the mud."

"Treville ordered us to return to Paris and we went believing you would be dug out of the mud by the musketeers we left behind to recover the bodies," Athos continued, "it was not until two days later we learned you had not been killed there."

"It was not until this morning we knew you were alive," Porthos concluded.

"I shouldn't be," Aramis said with melancholy, "you're right I got lucky."

"And we are glad you did,"Athos said quickly.

"Beyond glad," Porthos seconded and Aramis let a slight smile through at their sentiment but it faded as another thought returned to him. "What?" Porthos noticed the change.

"What if I am not that lucky?" he asked them slowly.

"What do you mean?" Porthos replied.

"It's been a week since I was shot and I can still barely use my left arm, barely breathe right, what if it doesn't get better?"

"It will," Porthos answered, "it's only been a week, with an injury like that it could be months before you are back at full strength."

"What if I don't get my full strength back?" he disagreed, the idea terrified him and he had no one he could share it with until now. "If I can't fight, can't be a musketeer, what is the point?"

"Aramis," Athos leant forwards, "it will heal, you just have to be patient, there is no use in worrying about something that is unlikely to happen."

Aramis held his gaze for a while before meeting Porthos'. They believe it, he realised, they did not doubt for a second he would heal, "I hope you are right."

"We are, you'll see," Porthos smiled at him, "a few days ago we thought you dead, so believe me when I say miracles can happen."

Aramis laughed gently, "that we've all been lucky I can accept, but miracles?"

Porthos looked to Athos for backup.

"I agree with Aramis," Athos replied, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. "And let's hope our luck doesn't run out."

"Now you're here I don't need luck," Aramis said honestly as he closed his eyes, he was exhausted and, with the two of them there, for the first time he didn't fear sleeping. He drifted off to the sounds of them cleaning their weapons along with the occasional quiet conversation.

AN: Bumper Saturday chapter! Hope people enjoyed! So I have a question, how much do people like Henri? I haven't quite finished the last chapters and his end was not going to be favourable but I am fond of him and could be persuaded to change my mind. I have been debating this for a while and am still undecided so wanted any opinions, if anyone feels like giving them? :-D


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: The eye of the storm.

Athos sighed, standing up and going to the window to look out. Behind him Porthos chuckled at his restlessness. The afternoon was wearing on, the sun would be setting soon, but time was passing all too slowly, there were only so many times he could clean a pistol. Perhaps Aramis had the right idea Athos considered, sleeping the afternoon away, not that his sleep appeared to be particularly restful. He had not woken but had the two of them freezing every time he made a sound, apparently he was in pain, but there was nothing they could do about it except let him sleep. So they did, they cleaned their pistols, sharpened their swords, Porthos had even cleaned the brass on his jacket and now Athos was bored. There was no wine, no cards just sitting around and waiting. Porthos had told him to enjoy it, how often did they get to do nothing?

He sighed again, the view out the window had not changed, it was very beautiful but at the end of the day it was forested valley, hills, blue sky, nothing to watch. He turned and sat on bed opposite Aramis', sitting back far enough to lean on the wall behind it.

"You are really hating this aren't you?" Porthos asked him with a smile. Athos gave him an unimpressed look but didn't answer instead returning to watching Aramis.

"Perhaps we should have killed Drago downstairs," Athos said thoughtfully after a moment. It had required all their self control to remain hidden while Aramis had faced the man. It was the first time they had come close to him and to hear how easily he talked about killing had surprised Athos, but they had waited, trusting Aramis to call if he needed them.

"In front of his son?" Porthos replied quite seriously.

Athos took a moment to think about that, "perhaps not."

"We'll get him," Porthos tried to reassure him.

"And in the mean time how many more will he have the chance to injure or kill?" Athos indicated Aramis letting his frustration show.

"Treville should be here by the end of tomorrow," Porthos told him needlessly, "then we can get him."

"Let's hope that is soon enough," Athos wasn't just referring to how many more Drago could kill before then, the three of them were in a rather precarious situation here with few options if it went wrong.

"We only have to lay low," Porthos was confident, "and the longer we are hidden the more time Aramis has to heal."

Athos gave no reply, he didn't dispute it but they only had a day and Aramis had been resting a week he didn't imagine the time they had would make much difference for him.

"The king will kill him won't he?" Porthos asked him after a while.

"Treville will ask it of him," Athos dodged the question.

"That's not an answer," Porthos complained.

"I hope so, but it is not up to us," Athos didn't see the point in speculating.

"It almost was earlier," Porthos said and Athos gave him a look, he had just been saying they should have killed him earlier and Porthos had disagreed.

"You want to kill him?" he asked confused.

"Yes," Porthos admitted, looking to their sleeping friend, "but Aramis would not like that."

"No, that would not be justice," Athos agreed, Aramis believed in following orders, in the system, that was a musketeer's duty. So did he, though it was easier to believe in when he was not watching such a badly injured comrade. None the less they would all do their duty.

"It is quiet," Porthos said after a moment or two.

"It's the lull, like the eye of the storm," Athos said conversationally, resting his head on the wall behind him.

"The what of the storm?" Porthos asked with a frown.

"My father used to say that if you go far enough east they get these great storms, flatten cities and destroy lives. But when it reaches it height, at the worst moment, a calm comes over, quiet and peaceful, as everywhere around you experiences the winds instead. Then as quickly as it came, it goes and you are plunged back into it," Athos explained.

"Huh. Did your father go east?" Porthos asked and Athos looked to him. It was rare indeed for them to talk about their families.

"No," he replied, "an uncle of his did though, he traded in India or something."

"I'd like to travel," Porthos remarked.

"Yes?" Athos answered, he did not know that.

"I've only known Paris," he said, "and only gone beyond it as a musketeer."

"I haven't really thought about it," Athos admitted.

"Aramis says it's overrated," Porthos continued. "He says France is better than Spain and anywhere is better than Savoy."

"You wouldn't want to go to India," Athos told him matter of factly.

"Wouldn't I?"

"You don't speak the language," Athos smiled at him.

Porthos chuckled, "on that basis I shouldn't leave France."

"You should stay in France, you cause enough trouble here," Athos jested.

"Oh do I?" he replied. "Not as much as you I'd wager."

Athos stared at him with half a smile for a moment, "let's agree that Aramis and D'Artagnan are the ones that get into trouble," he offered.

"We certainly do have to rescue them enough," Porthos played along.

"More often than we need rescuing," Athos decided.

"Hey," a plaintive voice came from the bed. "It's not my fault someone shot me with an arrow."

"But we have had to rescue you," Porthos replied turning to Aramis.

"We weren't assigning fault, just looking at the facts," Athos offered feeling happier that Aramis was awake.

"I don't know," Aramis narrowed his eyes at them. "Those sounded like some pretty high horses over there."

He and Porthos chuckled.

Aramis humphed but they could tell he was not truly insulted, "did Mirabella return?" he asked, grimacing as he pushed himself up to rest slightly on the head board.

"No," Porthos informed him. Aramis nodded.

"Is that worrying?" Athos asked him.

"No," Aramis said, distracted with straightening his shirt "she rarely comes unless she has food."

"Food would be good," Porthos patted his belly. "I'm starving."

"Shocking," Aramis didn't miss a beat.

Athos grinned, maybe they were in the eye of the storm, but being here with the two of them everything felt fine. If they had their new protégée with them everything would be perfect, hopefully D'Artagnan was keeping himself out of trouble.

They talked for a while before a knock was heard at the door, as he was nearest, Porthos stood, going over to it. "It's Mirabella." came a voice.

Porthos opened the door and sure enough Mirabella stood there with a large tray of food. Athos automatically stood in the presence of a woman, a glance to the window indicated that it was certainly near dinner time. Porthos quickly relieved her of the burden and put the tray on the table. Mirabella closed the door behind her, smiling at the three of them.

"I hope you haven't been too restless," she said, uncannily accurately.

"We've... managed," Athos replied tactfully, ignoring Porthos' amused smile from behind her.

"And you better have been resting," Mirabella turned to Aramis.

"I promise you I have not moved," Aramis said, Mirabella turned to them in askance.

"Indeed he has not," Athos took pity on him.

"Well, good," Mirabella decided. "I have brought your dinner as promised."

"Thank you," Porthos said sincerely.

"Don't mention it," she smiled kindly at them and Athos was suddenly very grateful that she had been there for Aramis when they had not. "I had better be getting back before I am missed." She turned to leave the room.

"Mirabella," Aramis stopped her. "When the musketeers come they will wish to be discreet."

"I know," she replied.

"Is there a way of making sure others do? Perhaps people in the village? To stop anyone that sees them sending word?" Aramis asked.

"Perhaps," Mirabella seemed to think about it.

Athos was not convinced, "how would you do that without alerting Drago?"

"You told me not everyone here supports Drago," Aramis said to Mirabella.

"That is true, there are some people I could tell to avoid and indeed conceal the musketeers if they see them, but I would not trust everyone who doubts Drago to support his enemies," Mirabella replied.

"I would trust your judgement," Aramis said, indicating just how much he trusted Mirabella.

"Very well, I will see what I can do," she offered. "But, if there are many men coming, you cannot imagine they will stay a secret for long."

"Any time would be useful," Porthos leant his support to the endeavour.

Mirabella nodded, "I will come in the morning with breakfast," she said as she exited the room.

"Things are certainly complicated here," Porthos remarked as he inspected the food.

"Not that complicated for us," Aramis disagreed. "we just stay in here, Mirabella is the one doing the work."

"Let us hope she does not make an error," Athos said, unable to hide the doubt in his voice.

"She won't," Aramis reassured him. Athos just gave him a look, Aramis always wished to see the best in people, he was not sure it was best tactic here.

Porthos handed out the food and they ate contentedly. Once it was finished Aramis started a childish game of 'what am I?' which, Athos conceded, at least passed the time. They were not far into it when Athos realised he was the only one guessing that Porthos was a rug and a look over to Aramis found him sound asleep. It was dark by this point, the room lit by a lamp, but neither he nor Porthos felt like sleeping, it wasn't really late enough to, so they continued with various word games for a while.

Thankfully it was not long until they were disturbed by the door creaking open, after a moment of panic, they realised it was Henri. Athos was glad, there was only so many times he could guess what household item Porthos was, he seemed determined tease Athos with it.

"Hello," Henri said quietly as he slipped into the room and saw Aramis asleep. He looked over to the two of them nervously, obviously worried he would have to speak to them without Aramis.

He needn't of, Athos smiled at him and Porthos didn't contain his happiness. "Henri!" he said in a loud whisper patting the boy on the back, before continuing normally. "I am glad you are here!"

"You are?" Henri frowned slightly.

"Yes, as you can see Aramis has fallen asleep and left me alone with Athos," Porthos leaned towards Henri slightly. "Between you and me, he is deathly boring," he said dramatically.

Henri looked to him and Athos gave him a long suffering look. They were evidently amusing enough as a smile grew on the boy's face.

"Is something the matter?" Athos asked him.

"Not really," Henri replied, "my father has been going on about musketeers and the king and stuff."

"Oh?" Athos said it appeared the boy came to talk to Aramis about his troubles.

"Yes, he is angry at everyone today," Henri informed them. "He often is though, so it is not unusual."

"Does he know musketeers are coming?" Porthos asked.

"No," Henri replied.

"Good," Porthos nodded.

"I suppose," Henri didn't look convinced.

"Isn't it?" Porthos asked the boy, glancing over at Athos who simply raised an eyebrow. They were relying on this boy to help them, things would not go well if he changed his mind.

"Yes," Henri sighed, stepping round Porthos to sit on an empty chair, turning to face Aramis. "I asked Aramis about warning my father and leaving with him but my father would never leave, never run away. He'd want to stay here until everyone died for him."

"That is what desperate men do," Athos told him gently.

"Yeah," Henri replied twisting his fingers in his lap.

"You are doing the right thing," Athos said leaning towards the boy. "Helping us."

"I know," Henri's eyes met his and Athos was glad the boy thought so. "I wasn't going to let my father kill Aramis and I am glad he didn't."

"Because of you Aramis is alive," Athos stated. "You do not know how much that means to us," he indicated himself and Porthos.

"He is your brother," Henri said thoughtfully.

"Very much so," Porthos chipped in.

"I had a brother once, he died while my father was preoccupied with finding his way back into France, sometimes I wonder if father notices he is gone," Henri admitted.

"Fathers love their children," Athos told him after a moment of surprise. "Even is they do not know how to show it."

"You must miss your brother," Porthos said kindly.

"Aramis missed you," Henri gave them a slight smile.

"Did he?" Porthos jested, giving Henri a nudge. "But he had you."

"Huh," Henri's smile widened, "I guess so."

Athos grinned as the boy looked at him.

"I had better go to bed," Henri said after a moment.

"You will be here in the morning?" Athos asked as the boy went over to the door.

"Oh, Aramis didn't mention?" Henri replied glancing over at their sleeping companion.

"Mention what?"

"I'll have lessons in the morning, I'll be in trouble if I don't appear. But I'll come up straight after," Henri looked between them nervously as they didn't reply. "That alright?"

"Yes," Athos finally answered when Porthos gave him a look. "D'Artagnan won't be here until into the afternoon."

Henri nodded and left the room. Athos groaned.

"What is with you?" Porthos asked as he stood and went over to the other bed.

"We have to spend the whole morning in here," he complained.

"Well, we either spend it in here or the dark dank bowels of this castle," Porthos pointed out as he took off his boots and jacket for bed.

"That is a good point," Athos hadn't considered it. In future he intended to take packs of cards with him everywhere, at least then he would have something to do. He watched Porthos get into bed for a moment. "Had we better have a watch?"

"Do you think it will make a difference?" Porthos replied as he rested his head on his arms. "We don't know who is coming along the corridor when we hear them."

"None the less, I'll wake you later," Athos decided. He wasn't tired.

Porthos nodded and closed his eyes and Athos turned off the lamp on the table leaving the room in darkness lit only by the faint light of the moon. He sat back on the bed again and rested his arms on his knees, his eye's soon adjusted and he could make out the shapes of his brothers resting. The night passed slowly, he dozed on and off for sometime. The corridor was quiet, though he could occasionally make out sounds of people moving in the castle, and, rarely, coming along the corridor. Aramis had mentioned there were guards patrolling at night, though they certainly payed this room no mind. After a while, he woke Porthos and got some sleep himself.

Eventually morning came and they sat chatting in the room again. Aramis seemed more awake this morning though when they had seen him yesterday he had been dragged out for a horse ride by the boy which presumably had worn him out. Mirabella brought breakfast, as well as a welcome distraction, but she did not stay long. Eventually lunch time came and Henri burst into the room with an arm full of bread and cheese. Athos was very glad to see him, it finally meant they would be doing something.

AN: Some long conversations in this chapter, I hope the characters work. Thanks for the replies to my query, people seem to like Henri so I should probably be nice to him right? So today is the last episode, so sad :-( Can't wait for it though! If people wish, I can mourn the lack of musketeers with another chapter later?


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: The voice of wisdom.

D'Artagnan encouraged his horse to slow down as they rode down a hill but as soon as they reached the flat he let the animal speed up again. His horse was rearing to go fast obviously feeling it's rider's haste but he kept them at little more than a fast trot on these hilly roads. They had been riding for a couple of hours or so and he was pretty sure the main road was not far ahead, once they reached it he would allow his horse to go for it.

Not ten minutes later they reached a cross road and he halted his horse as they stood in the middle. The road they had reached was much flatter and better maintained than most of the roads in the hills and he was pretty certain it was the one that would lead to Treville, then he caught sight of a sign that confirmed it was the right road. Beneath him his horse pranced, ready to go. The animal was fit and used to riding far and fast and he smiled as he gave him the signal to go and they sprang forward at full speed. He would let him go for a mile or two before reining him in and riding at a more sensible pace, after all his horse had no idea how far he wished to go. But then technically neither did he.

They rode for several hours passing through a few hamlets and villages as well as quite a few other travellers on the road though D'Artagnan simply passed them all. It was long past midday before he stopped in a village square to rest his horse and let it drink whilst he went in the inn for a quick drink himself. Not long after and they were on the road again.

It was starting to get dark by the time he finally found what he was looking for. The traffic had been getting quieter for sometime when he saw them, Treville and a large number of horsemen riding towards him. Treville called the column of men to halt as he spotted D'Artagnan approaching and he came to a stop beside him.

"We found him," he said without preamble.

"Drago?" asked Treville with a confused frown.

"Yes, but also Aramis," D'Artagnan clarified.

"Alive?" Treville was surprised.

"Yes, badly injured but alive," D'Artagnan couldn't help a smile from appearing. Amongst the musketeers a murmur went up as word was passed back, the news that one of their assumed dead brothers lived boasting morale.

"That is good news," Treville said formally but D'Artagnan could tell he was very pleased. "Where are they now?"

"It's a complicated story," D'Artagnan hesitated, "but I can take you to where Drago is."

"You can tell me about it this evening," Treville dismissed it, before turning to a man riding next to him D'Artagnan didn't recognise. "This is Deverell's man, Ames, he says there is a village in a few miles we can camp at."

D'Artagnan nodded at the man in greeting before turning back to Treville, "I passed the village."

"If we stop there tonight when will we reach Drago tomorrow?" Ames asked him.

"Yes, we should reach him in the afternoon."

"Then let's go," Treville rode onwards and they all followed.

It did not take them long to reach the village and camp was quickly set up on the village green much to the surprise of the villagers. There was room enough in the inn for a dozen men or so to stay the night and apparently Treville expected D'Artagnan to take a bed which he found flattering as he was not officially a musketeer yet. An hour or so after they arrived most of the men were visiting the inn to get food and drink but the night was mild so were taking it outside to eat, the small inn too cramped for everyone to eat inside. D'Artagnan accompanied Treville into the inn and they took a seat at a table which was quickly vacated for the captain to use, Ames joined them, as well as a few senior musketeers, Rousset the medic among them.

As food was brought over D'Artagnan explained how they had come across Aramis and what they had learnt about Drago from him. Then he told Treville that his three favourite musketeers (not that he'd admit it but D'Artagnan had noticed) were hiding in the castle of a mad man who had killed nine musketeers thus far. Treville was not impressed but at least he understood why. When he was fully informed, Treville agreed with the plan the musketeers had formulated. Once they reached the castle D'Artagnan and some of the men would enter through the tunnels and help Athos and Porthos open the gates and the others would ride in and apprehend Drago. Everyone agreed it sounded simple enough, D'Artagnan could only hope it played out that way.

D'Artagnan was able to form an opinion of Deverell's man Ames over the diner. He lead the forty or so men Deverell had leant to the effort, most of which were full time soldiers like the musketeers and had regular training. Ames was obviously very professional and proud and had apparently served in one army or another all his life, he was around Treville's age as far as he could tell. Treville seemed to trust him which was enough for D'Artagnan.

They finally retired for the evening and, to D'Artagnan's dismay, he was in the same room as Rousset who insisted on taking his stitches out, thankfully the man was pleased with how his wound was healing and didn't prod at him for too long. Despite the day of hard riding D'Artagnan did not sleep well, worrying about his three friends in that castle alone. He hoped they had not made a mistake, when he had thought Aramis was dead it had hit him hard, if he lost any of them, never mind all three, he didn't know what he would do. He didn't intend to find out, he would bring reinforcements and, in return, they would be alive when they got there.

Eventually, there was a lightening of the dark outside the window and D'Artagnan rose gathering his things and slipping from the room without waking anyone. Outside was quiet, the area full of sleeping musketeers and soldiers, a few men were awake keeping watch. He walked around to the far side of the barn where all the horses were tied up, most of them were awake munching on hay. A guard was watching them too and he gave D'Artagnan a smile as he passed, though D'Artagnan did not recognise him so assumed he was Ames' man.

It did not take long to find his horse where he had left him. The animal was pleased to see him, snuffing softly as it nosed at him and he stepped closer, scratching behind it's ears.

A short while later he was startled by Treville's voice. "You are up early," he said. D'Artagnan looked up as he came over and stroked the horse next to him and he realised the animal was Treville's.

"Are we not to set off early?" he replied, forcing a smile.

Treville didn't reply and D'Artagnan looked back to his horse as those eyes scrutinised him. Treville didn't miss much.

"I was surprised you were sent to find us alone," Treville commented.

"The others didn't want to leave Aramis," D'Artagnan explained.

"And you did?" Treville questioned.

D'Artagnan frowned slightly before avoiding answering "we needed to get word to you about where Drago is."

"I see," Treville said, in a tone D'Artagnan was wary of.

"I am beyond glad he is alive," he said, though he was pretty sure Treville already knew that.

"Because if he wasn't, it would be your fault?"

D'Artagnan's eye's snapped to Treville's, the older man may as well have punched him. His mouth dropped open but no words came out. D'Artagnan didn't doubt it was the case but to hear him say it, was that really Treville's opinion of him?

"I don't believe that," Treville told him seriously. "You are not at fault for the actions of the enemy in battle."

The yawning pit in his stomach disappeared as he realised Treville did not think ill of him. "If I had done something different, perhaps the outcome would have been different," he said mournfully. These thoughts had been gnawing at him for sometime. The fact they had found Aramis alive made it easier but watching him struggle with his injuries did not.

"You want to be a soldier D'Artagnan, sometimes people will die," Treville said. "Sometimes it will be people you care about. You cannot prevent that, you can only do your duty. So long as you do, then it is not your fault if someone dies."

D'Artagnan said nothing holding Treville's gaze. He respected this man a great deal but had rarely spoken so candidly with him. He could see the years of experience in Treville at this moment and he could tell Treville had been through this himself, once upon a time.

"The only people to blame are those that attack you, or perhaps the men who send you there," Treville continued thoughtfully.

"You mean you?" D'Artagnan frowned.

"Men die on my watch, but that is my job."

"But you are following orders," D'Artagnan argued, not understanding how could Treville blame himself if his men died doing their duty.

"But I choose the men to send, the men respect me and follow my orders," Treville replied and D'Artagnan wondered for a moment what it would be like to order people to their deaths. "That is what I mean, you do your duty, whatever it is, and you have to live with the consequences."

"Or not."

"Or not, but you must learn how to live with it. Remember you are not alone, Athos, Aramis and Porthos are all willing to teach you, they know how to live this life. They know what it is to loose people, to feel as if it is their fault." Treville sighed taking a moment. "Aramis, in particular, will know how you are feeling, perhaps you should ask him about it."

"I don't think he would like my asking," D'Artagnan dismissed. He had spoken to Athos and Porthos about the massacre at Savoy but the anniversary of it had upset Aramis so much he was disinclined to ever speak to him about it.

"I'm sure he would not mind," Treville said in a way that made D'Artagnan believe he knew it was so. "Just think about it."

D'Artagnan nodded and realised the conversation was at an end as Treville took his horse's saddle off the fence and started to tack up the animal. After a moments hesitation D'Artagnan followed suit.

"Maurice!" Treville called. Momentarily, the man appeared, surprising D'Artagnan as he hadn't realised anyone else was among the horses. "Wake the men, we leave in a quarter hour."

"Of course," Maurice replied.

"Also, see if our hosts have bread and cheese for the journey," Treville requested as Maurice headed off.

He and Treville were ready within minutes and so D'Artagnan had the pleasure of waiting on his horse as everyone else around him rushed to get ready in time. Treville's quarter of an hour was somewhat hopeful, with seventy odd men to wait for, but within half an hour all the men were mounted and ready to leave.

It was dawning fully as they rode out of the village, the sun coming over the horizon and blinding them as they rode eastward. But the day promised to be a good one and D'Artagnan felt in slightly better spirits than he had this last week. Aramis was alive, a plan was in place and he had successfully found the force of men coming to attack Drago. He checked himself before he got too confident though, he had still left his three mentors in the castle of the enemy: there was a lot of room for things to go wrong yet.

They rode hard all morning, stopping for a brief lunch in a village before continuing on into the Beaufort hills. Then their direction became D'Artagnan's responsibility and he quickly found the rockier road south he had used the day before. After an hour on the road they were coming close to the valley Drago called home. Yesterday D'Artagnan had used trails that skirted around the villages in the valley. The gentleman at the farm they had stayed at, Jesper, had described the villages in this valley being loyal to Drago so he had not wished to risk meeting the villagers. However taking seventy horsemen along the narrow trails would take time and may be noticed anyway. He explained the situation to Treville.

"Take us along the trails," Treville decided. "It might be longer but we need to keep as quiet a possible, attack Drago unawares, if he finds out we are here too soon he will have time to organise a defence."

"I agree," commented Ames with a nod.

"And goodness knows what he will do with our men," Treville said quietly to D'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan lead them onwards, almost single file along the trails. He tried to keep the speed up but they were forced to slow several times when they feared people were on the trails or to cross roads without being seen. Eventually they came to the abandoned farmstead where Athos' and Porthos' horse still waited. He wasn't sure they had not been seen, but certainly not by anyone who had immediately raised any alarm, hopefully that boded well.

"The tunnel is in a clearing not far from here," D'Artagnan said as he dismounted. The others took their cue from him and also dismounted, men and horses glad for a rest before the attack.

"Are we safe here?" Ames asked him, looking around.

"Yes," he replied. "This is an abandoned farm, those are our horses we left yesterday."

"A staging area then," Ames stated.

D'Artagnan nodded. "I should get going through the tunnels."

"Good, take Maurice, Roche and Yves with you," Treville indicated to the men in question.

"Shouldn't you take more?" Ames interrupted. "Why not just attack from inside?"

"If we have a larger group and are spotted inside before opening the gates then we will have all of Drago's men to face alone," D'Artagnan pointed out

"Then take all the men through the tunnels," Ames argued. "Let Drago face that."

"I do not think the tunnels are easy to go through, even if all the men were willing to squeeze through them," D'Artagnan recalled neither Athos or Porthos particularly wanting to.

"And how long will that take?" Treville disagreed. "We are outnumbered, we don't want to fight everyone. We'd do better with a frontal assault, scare Drago's men into surrendering, we wouldn't have that effect if we trickled out of a tunnel into the bowels of a castle."

"Fine, we'll do it your way," Ames conceded, not sounding very put out. "We might be outnumbered but I don't think these hill folk will be much of a challenge, we could probably ride up to the closed gate and once they saw us they would surrender."

"I hope you are right," Treville replied. "But until they do we should assume they won't."

"Very well," Ames said.

"You should go," Treville turned to D'Artagnan. "You've half an hour to get that gate up, we'll be waiting to come in. Be careful"

D'Artagnan gave him a nod before turning and running off in the direction of the tunnel, behind him the three men followed.

AN: Another chapter as requested by a few very kind reviewers! I loved the episode tonight, it was amazing! I can't wait for it to return, it's gonna be ages! In the meanwhile I shall enjoy the increasing amount of stories available on here :-D

A note about horses; you may have noticed I don't go into a great deal of detail about their mounts, I love horses but their characters are not important to the story. That being said, I believe the horses most of the people in the show ride are Andalusian horses (or the pure Spanish horse). Which is probably not accurate as, at the time, they were a (very) expensive war horse, the musketeers would likely ride them, but not everyone and their mum as occurs in the show (also Andalusians are predominately white colours). The musketeers likely ride full stallions as that would have been the norm for regiments of the time and these animals would be fit enough to ride large distances pretty quickly as they do in quite a few chapters in this story. Anyway, that is my opinion/research, thought I would share, I would be happy to hear anyone else's opinion on the matter!


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: And so it begins.

Porthos took up rear guard as they followed Henri back down into the cellars of the castle and the tunnel entrance. Unlike the day before they met no one on the way down and were soon waiting in the vaulted alcove for D'Artagnan to appear. He and Athos had brought all their things down in their cloth bags in case they 'looked too much like musketeers' as Henri put it. In the dim light of the lantern they emptied the bags onto the cold stone floor. They had brought Aramis' things also, though he had no weapons all his belts, straps and shoulder guard had been in the room and they passed him the items as they got ready. Henri was already ready, wearing an impressive little sword and a thick tunic.

It was Athos' chuckle that alerted Porthos to their friend's predicament. Aramis' left arm still rested in the loop of fabric he wore and, without it, putting on most of his things was not easy. He had given up on the belt, instead awkwardly putting on his shoulder strap, fiddling with the sling to get it to sit right. Henri giggled and Porthos smiled. Aramis picked up his belt and sighed, before looking to the two of them.

"You know I can't do this alone," he finally said.

Athos looked over to him with a smile and Porthos shrugged, he was still fastening his belt.

"Come here," Athos offered, scooping Aramis' blue sash off the floor and stepping over to put it on.

Porthos slid his weapons into place and stepped over to assist, fastening on Aramis shoulder guard.

"Because this isn't embarrassing," Aramis commented as they outfitted him.

"We won't tell anyone," Porthos teased.

"Apart from D'Artagnan," Athos agreed.

"Might help you with the ladies," Porthos continued, "you can say you have personal valets."

"I don't need help with the ladies, thank you," Aramis pointed out.

"That is true," Athos said quite seriously, he finished fastening with the belt. "Is this tighter than you normally wear it?"

"At the moment," Aramis admitted.

"Hmm," was all the reply Athos gave.

"Well aside from lacking a few weapons your good to go," Porthos declared. "Do you know where your weapons are?"

"No, Henri?" Aramis asked the boy.

"I haven't seen them," Henri replied from where he waited, listening down the tunnel. "They are probably in the armoury somewhere."

"I guess they will have to wait until we are done," Athos said and he handed Aramis his gun. "Here."

"Athos you'll need it," Aramis disagreed.

"I can defend myself with a sword," Athos didn't take it back. "Besides you are the better shot."

"Might as well have them both," Porthos handed his over too. Both he and Athos had agreed that keeping Aramis with them was safer than leaving him anywhere but it did mean they would have to protect him in whatever battle they got into. At least Aramis could certainly protect himself with guns.

Aramis hesitated but took the second gun too. "Thanks," he said.

Porthos chuckled, patting him on the back, "don't mention it."

They all fell quiet as they heard footsteps, they were definitely not from the tunnel. After a moment they faded and Porthos let out a breath.

"They are not down here," Henri informed them, evidently seeing their worry.

"No?" Porthos replied slightly sarcastically, "they certainly sound like they are."

"They are on the floor above, the sound echos sometimes. Almost no one comes down here."

"Let's hope it stays that way," Athos said, "it could be some time before D'Artagnan comes back."

Athos was not wrong. Porthos did not know exactly how much time passed between their arrival and D'Artagnan finally appearing, he usually relied on the movement of the sun and, in Paris, the ringing of the bells. He would wager that it was getting on for late afternoon when they heard someone in the tunnel. They had been sitting quietly for most of the afternoon, the floor was cold and they regularly got up to check the corridor and keep the blood flowing. They had the occasional conversation but they kept petering out whenever they fell silent to listen. It was unusual for them to be nervous, Porthos couldn't remember the last time it had been obvious, but with little banter to hide it, he felt as though they were nervous. Whether or not they were, they were definitely fed up of waiting, he couldn't wait for the battle to begin.

It was young Henri's sharp ears that picked up the sounds of someone coming through the tunnel. They all stood when he gave the alarm and Aramis beckoned the boy to stand behind them as they waited to see who would appear. They were soon reassured as they heard hushed voices down the tunnel and recognised one as D'Artagnan's.

"D'Artagnan?" Athos said, not loudly but not whispered either.

"Athos?" came the reply.

They smiled as D'Artagnan duly appeared coming up the last steps of the tunnel, he appeared just as pleased to see them.

"Are you well?" Porthos inquired as he approached. Their young friend looked unscathed and he was very thankful.

"Yes," D'Artagnan answered, shaking dust from his hair, "and I bring reinforcements."

Sure enough, behind him came Maurice, Roches and Yves. They all greeted each other happily and Porthos was glad to hear of the men Treville had brought. So far everything was running to plan.

"Treville gave us half an hour to get the gate up and we've probably used ten minutes of it coming through there," D'Artagnan informed them.

"Then we had better get going," Athos replied. "Henri, how far to the gate house?"

"Not very far, just beyond the kitchens."

"We don't have to go through the kitchens do we?" Aramis asked.

"No, we can go under and come up at the other side, that'll be the basement, we'll have to go up a floor again to reach the room to control the portcullis though," Henri seemed to be thinking through the route. "It will be well guarded too."

"You get us there Henri," Porthos told him. "We'll do the rest."

"This way then," he said, picking up the lantern and leading them onwards.

Aramis was right behind him, as usual, so, instead of bringing up the rear, Porthos stuck by them. Athos had the same idea, they didn't intend to let Aramis out of their sights. They went through a labyrinth of tunnels that Porthos doubted any of them would be able to find their way back through, Henri didn't hesitated though and Aramis obviously had no doubts in the boys ability so they followed along quietly. Aside from Aramis and Henri, none of them had seen the lay out of the castle, he and Athos only had Aramis' descriptions to go on but they could hear the kitchens as they passed below them. Eventually they went up a set of stairs into a part of the castle that was lit and presumably more used than the lower basement. Henri led on with a bit more caution here, which was well founded, as they soon went along a corridor towards a T junction and someone came around a corner ahead of them. He was an older gentleman, greying hair, but well built. He was, however, made slightly less threatening by the white apron he wore and an obvious lack of weapons, that and the shock on his face.

"Marcus," Henri said, surprised, as they all ground to a halt.

In front of him, Aramis had been about to draw a gun but stopped when the boy spoke so Porthos shared a look with Athos and, hands on swords, they both waited.

"You're Marcus?" Aramis asked him, sounding curious rather than worried. He put a hand on Henri's shoulder as the boy looked to him for direction.

"And you're Aramis," the man, Marcus, replied, getting over his shock of coming face to face with such a well armed group.

"We were just, er..." Aramis looked back to them, evidently wondering how he could explain them.

"How about I pretend I haven't seen anything?" Marcus offered.

"That might be best," Aramis agreed, with a slight nod.

Marcus looked back the way he had come, as well as down the other corridor not full of musketeers. "Er, which way do I need to go not to see anything?" he asked. Porthos couldn't stop a slight smile as both Henri and Aramis pointed to the left.

"Right-ho," Marcus nodded, he made to leave and then paused. "I assume there isn't long before the thing I don't know about happens?"

"No," Aramis replied. Athos gave Porthos an unimpressed look, Porthos knew he often thought Aramis too trusting, he had apparently just met this man.

"You had better take care of Henri," Marcus told Aramis quite seriously.

"Of course," Aramis said, putting his had over his heart, "you have my word."

Marcus gave a curt nod, a smile to Henri and then was gone. For a second no one said anything.

"Onwards, Henri," Aramis pushed the boy ahead of him.

"Who was that?" Athos asked as they followed once again.

"Marcus, Mirabella's husband," Aramis told them.

"That's the man that stitched you up?" Porthos' respect for the man just went through the roof. Henri might have wanted Aramis alive, but it was that man that had achieved it.

"And you trust him enough to let him go?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Yes," Aramis answered simply.

They continued onwards, meeting no one else down on this level, the basements beyond the kitchen seemed little used. Henri finally brought them to a stop at the bottom of a short set of stairs. They could hear people up the stairs, they sounded like they might be guards.

"If you go up the stairs and turn right the guard house and the controls to the portcullis are in the room at the end of the corridor," Henri explained.

"How many men will there be?" Athos asked as they all quietly drew their weapons.

"A dozen, maybe more, but, if you are not quiet, there will be more very quickly."

"How do we think we are doing for time?" Athos asked the group in general.

"Time must nearly be up," D'Artagnan ventured. "But I'm guessing they can't be that close as I am not hearing any alarm."

"No, the guards will sound a bell if we are under attack, they also drop the second, front portcullis and shut the door in the one already down," Henri said.

"Well, we might as well start," Porthos was ready to get going.

"Agreed," Athos said. "Aramis, Henri, stay at the back, but don't fall behind. Let's try keep it quiet."

They all gave Athos a nod to say they were ready and followed him up the stairs. Porthos was right behind him, Aramis letting them all past. Despite what they could hear, there was no one in the corridor directly at the top of the stairs and they spilled out into it heading in the direction Henri had suggested. At the end was a large room full of guards and, as they approached, they were quickly noticed. As soon as they were seen they were attacked, sure enough there were at least a dozen guards in the room and, though outnumbered, Porthos was sure they would win. He and Athos attacked the guards that came straight at them letting D'Artagnan and the others have a chance to get past and get into the room. The men they were fighting obviously had some training but were not really a match for them.

Porthos frowned as Henri and Aramis slipped past them also, and into the guard room after the others. Sharing a look with Athos they quickly both despatched their attackers and followed. In the guard room they were plunged back into fighting. To Porthos relief Henri and Aramis were fine, Henri had just cut down the bell that was presumably used to sound the alarm, he and Athos quickly got between them and the fighting. A minute or two later they were victorious, and all without a musket shot fired. Not that the fight had gone unnoticed. Porthos attention was drawn to several guards coming down the hall towards them, these men had guns and he quickly went over to the door they had just come through and shut it, barring it was easy as it had a wooden shaft across it for the purpose.

The room was obviously right beside the entry way to the castle, it had an arrow slotted window looking down the road leading up the castle and a larger window at the other side looking out into the courtyard. No one out there had yet noticed their arrival. There was a small fortified door leading out beside the lowered portcullis at the back of the gateway, D'Artagnan was shutting and barring it. There were two mechanisms in the room for the two portcullis' in the gate way, ropes running into the ceiling to control them, one at the front and one at the back. People appeared to be free to come and go from the castle most of the time, though a portcullis was lowered it had a door in it large enough to fit a horse and rider through.

"We don't have long," Porthos said to the others, he could hear the men on the other side of the door shouting to someone to send word of the attack.

"How do we raise the gate, Henri?" Athos asked.

"The wheel at the back," Henri said pointing from where he and Aramis stood out of the way. "Two men have to wind it up."

Porthos went over to where he was pointing, Maurice coming over to help him. It was a large wheel with handles to pull it, ropes came off it running into the ceiling and presumably pulling up the gate. The weight appeared to be counter balanced as, while the portcullis was only wooden, they certainly were not pulling it's whole weight.

Before they had pulled it any distance alarms were being raised in the courtyard, bells ringing.

Yves was stood by the window looking down the road. "Treville and the others are coming," he informed them.

"And they have been seen," Athos continued. He and D'Artagnan came over to help them with pulling up the portcullis.

Something smashed heavily into the door of the room and Porthos guessed that they were trying to bring the door down to get in, there was no way they would do so before the portcullis was all the way up. A moment later the small window facing into the courtyard was shot out.

"Seems like we have lost the element of surprise," Aramis commented, as he shot whoever was coming through the window, quickly picking up unused pistols to shoot the people behind that man too.

Within a minute the portcullis would raise no more and a look out of the window confirmed it was all the way up. Porthos could hear the bedlam in the courtyard as Drago's men were called to arms, then he heard the shouting and thunder of Treville and their reinforcements came pouring through the gate and into the courtyard.

"Lets go," Athos called and before him D'Artagnan opened to door into the gateway.

"Wait!" Henri said. "The portcullis' have quick releases, it only needs a man and a knife to drop one."

Athos paused. "Yves and Roche stay here and make sure no one lowers them," the two men in question nodded. The banging on the door had stopped and given that Drago's men were preoccupied by the seventy or so horsemen now in the courtyard Porthos didn't think it would be too much trouble for them.

"Ready?" Athos asked the rest of them.

Porthos grinned, the fight had only just begun.

AN: Hope everyone is still enjoying it! Thank you very much to my wonderful reviewers, they are very much appreciated. I did research portcullis' for this chapter, as you do, lol, very exciting stuff! :-D


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: A grave error.

Aramis handed Athos and Porthos their used pistols back as they prepared to leave the room, he had no gunpowder or shot to reload them, nor the dexterity to do so anyway. The room was filled with the still bodies of the men they had fought to get in and he chose one of their blades to borrow, managing to holster it with difficulty, he then picked up as many pistols as he could attach to his belt, managing three and one in his hand, each would be a one time use. The others reloaded their guns and waited for him, he made sure Henri was beside him before nodding at them to say he was ready. He was in pain but it was manageable.

They went through the gate way into the court yard where it was bedlam, with seventy horsemen between them and Drago's men there was no one immediately for them to attack. Most of the musketeers and Ames' men had dismounted and were fighting one on one. A great number of Drago's men were in the courtyard but they mostly seemed to be his untrained village boys, who were quickly realising how out matched they were and surrendering. The musketeers were telling them to drop weapons and stand by the walls. No one was allowed to leave the courtyard.

After a moment they spotted Treville, not in the mist of the men fighting but none the less directing people.

"Treville!" Athos called and they went over to him.

"Athos," Treville replied, before noticing who was with him. "Aramis."

Aramis smiled as Treville looked at him. He could see the relief on the older man's face. "Treville," he greeted.

"I am very glad to see you," Treville said over the din.

"And I you," Aramis replied.

"What needs doing?" Porthos asked.

They all ducked as a shot hit close to them. Treville's gaze alerted them to the fact that people were shooting into the courtyard from the windows of higher floors. Aramis quickly spotted the man that had aimed at them and didn't hesitate to shoot him, he had to admit he felt slightly smug as he hit him at this distance.

"The main doors have been shut, we are guessing Drago is in the hall beyond. The men in this courtyard are not well trained so it is likely he has more men with him," Treville explained. "We can get in the side door down into what appears to be the kitchens, but how we get round to the main halls from there we've no idea, we haven't the manpower to spread out and search the whole castle."

"I can show you," Henri piped up. Treville looked to Aramis in askance.

"This is Henri," Aramis told him, putting a hand on the young boy's shoulder. "Drago's son."

"Good to meet you Henri," Treville said kindly.

"The guard hall usually has forty or so men in, assuming they remained in there when they shut the doors," Henri offered.

"Right," Treville looked around the courtyard, it was quietening down a bit, as most of the fighting had stopped. "Ames!" he called as he spotted the man in question.

"Sir?" Athos asked.

Treville held up a hand asking him to wait as Ames came over.

"We almost have the courtyard!" Ames declared happily.

"Good," Treville nodded. "You and your men keep it, sort out who's who, perhaps send some men upstairs to sort out these shooters and I'd advise you call the servants out of the castle and sort them out too.."

"Very well," Ames replied, "but there are still a lot of men inside."

"I'll take in the musketeers and flush them out, make sure the rats don't get passed us," Treville instructed.

Ames chuckled, "consider it done," he said giving Treville a pat on the shoulder and looking all too happy at the prospect. He turned, disappearing while yelling various orders to his men.

"Maurice," Treville said to the man Aramis had almost forgot stood with them. "Stay out here, find Rousset and keep an eye on things, make sure our friends don't get too excited."

"Yes sir," Maurice disappeared into the throng of horses and men too.

"Let's go get Drago," Treville nodded to them and they followed him towards the kitchen door. "Musketeers! To me!" Treville was yelling.

Aramis smiled as he followed, he had missed them and from the grins he was getting from the men they passed they had missed him to.

The courtyard had seemed very large these last few days, even with the bustle of the servants and the stables, but with so many men and horses in it there was little room to manoeuvre. Aramis kept behind Athos and Porthos letting them find a path rather than risk knocking his already painful shoulder, Henri was glued to his side. They reached the kitchen doors and found many servants milling around obviously at a loss of what to do, thankfully they seemed to be perfectly safe with few soldiers paying any attention to unarmed civilians.

Once there, the thirty or so musketeers Treville had brought were behind them and Treville quickly informed them of the plan. Find Drago and his remaining men and defeat them. Simple.

"Lead onwards," Treville said turning to them and Aramis gave Henri an encouraging smile. The boy nodded and slipped forwards, they all followed.

Or tried to, Athos and Porthos stepped in front of him and stopped him with gentle hands on his chest.

"You'd be wiser to remain out here," Porthos said. He just gave them a look.

"Right," Athos conceded and the two of them dropped it. "Worth a try."

"Aramis?" Henri's voice came from beside D'Artagnan, ahead of them.

"Coming," he replied, slipping passed his two friends to catch up.

There were more servants in the kitchens, mostly continuing their work, despite the attack. There were also a few more bewildered young guards who all dropped their weapons as the musketeers streamed in. Aside to check they were not a threat, they ignored them as they passed, Ames' men would round them up. Henri lead them through the kitchens and the basement. Aramis would have him pause before every corner, he dreaded the idea of the boy racing around one to be shot. The first one he checked himself but Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan quickly saw what he was doing and took over, arguing they would at least be able to fight if they met anyone. They met no one ahead of them but there was the occasional clatter or gun fire behind as people stumbled across the string of musketeers. None the less, they soon reached the stairs that would lead up to the just behind the main hall and guard hall. The basement was relatively quiet but upstairs was not, they could hear all the men running around, men barking out orders and shots being fired into the courtyard.

"We're here," Henri declared as they halted out of sight down the stairs. Behind them the musketeers assembled.

"Ready?" Treville asked the men quietly. No one said anything but there were nods and the sounds of cocking pistols. "Lets go."

Aramis gave Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan a nod and a smile before they went, the four of them not needing words. He pulled Henri back to the wall as the others came passed, all racing up the stairs to fight. As much as he hated it he would not be very useful in a fight, he was starting to run out of energy, pain levels creeping up, and he had Henri to keep safe.

He could hear that they had not exactly taken the men by surprise, but so many men appearing all at once from one place had. The sounds of the fight soon moved along the corridor above, presumably heading into the halls proper.

Beside him Henri pulled away and went up the stairs. Aramis raised an eyebrow but followed him, Henri stopped at the top of the stairs to peak around the corner.

"What are you doing?" Aramis asked curiously.

Henri glanced back at him. "My father will fight to the death, but he would stop if I ask him." With that Henri drew his sword and ran out into the corridor.

Aramis looked around the corridor, it was empty but for half a dozen bodies of the guards the musketeers had killed, he thankfully could see no blue. Henri's run had halted by the body of a guard Aramis assumed he knew relatively well.

He sighed, "why is it never easy?" he said to himself before choosing a gun and following after the boy. "Come on, Henri," he reached him and pulled him forwards, it was better not to dwell on death.

They slowed as they reached the end of the corridor, the sounds of the fight were louder and sure enough as they went around this corner they found the battle. In front of them were the great barred doors, still not open, the stairs in one corner and one hall to the left, one to the right, both with fighting in.

Henri pulled him into the great hall his father was usually to be found in. The fighting was fierce, the musketeers were out numbered but not out matched. The men on both sides avoided harming Henri and Aramis slipped in alongside him, skirting around the edges of the room. He was soon forced to use the pistol as a man came towards them, then he spotted his three friends fighting together across the hall and quickly used another shot as a man came up behind Athos. Athos noticed and, though he gave Aramis a grateful look, a word to his two companions had the tree of them trying to work their way over through the fighting. Aramis ignored their worried looks as he took the last pistol off his belt.

"My father is not here," Henri declared.

"Are you sure?" Aramis had to admit he had been more distracted with looking for his three friends, and, once he had located them, the musketeers in general. No musketeer was dead, though a man he could not make out was using the wall for support as two others protected him.

"I know where he will be," Henri said, skirting past him and heading back out of the room.

"Henri!" he called, but the boy was half panicked with worry for his father and, as he ran from the hall, Aramis was forced to follow.

The others were still making their way over to him but Aramis had no intention of leaving Henri, he could not wait for them. He left the hall as unnoticed by the majority of fighters as when he had entered it.

It would be fine, he convinced himself, he still had one shot left, that was enough to bring in a man. If Henri located him.

"Henri!" he called again as he left the hall, the boy had run off quickly and he knew not where but Henri had not abandoned all reason.

"Aramis!" he heard from round a corner. Aramis went in that direction, spotting Henri as he turned down the corridor away from the fighting and away from the direction they had originally come from, further into the castle. The boy paused long enough for him to catch up and Aramis grit his teeth as he followed, his injuries were starting to make themselves known again, the pain level crawling up to unmanageable.

"We should wait for the others," he counselled.

"Father will be leaving, we must hurry," Henri disagreed.

Aramis followed him, but wondered if Henri had really thought it through. If they caught him he would be put to death, but if the two of them stopped his father might escape and Henri would not have to fret over his father's death. As a musketeer he wanted to find him, but he cared for Henri and would rather the boy didn't loose his father.

Just when he thought he could not run anymore they saw him.

"Father!" Henri yelled and before them a fleeing Drago stopped in his tracks. They had come to a large empty room, not tall like the halls, but given the training weapons on racks around them perhaps a room for fighting. Fitting, Aramis thought.

"Henri," Drago said. He held a sword but Aramis could see no pistol. "And the musketeer. Are you in league with them? My own son..."

Drago seemed genuinely surprised by this.

"Father..." Henri was trying to work out how to explain.

"Put down the weapon and come with me," Aramis told him, pointing his pistol at him.

Drago laughed bitterly, "come with you? For what?" he held his sword up, coming closer.

"Father, please, do as he says," Henri pleaded.

"Do as he says!" Drago roared, still coming towards them. "Do you know what will happen if I come?"

"I.."

"They will kill me! Is that what you want boy? Is that what you have been plotting for?"

"Stop there or I'll shoot," Aramis interrupted calmly, inside he was not, he needed Drago to stop, he had no other plan.

"Go ahead!" Drago sneered.

He was coming all too close and Aramis didn't know if he would have shot him but he didn't find out. Drago roared angrily, trying to intimidate him and then Henri rushed to push the gun off it's target, 'No!' Aramis heard him yell, the gun went off, firing into the air and the pain of the boy hitting into him made Aramis breathless for a moment. Drago laughed, coming close enough to pull them apart, he pushed Aramis back and he fell to the ground as the pain caused black spots on his vision. But Drago wasn't interested in him, instead pulling his boy to his side.

"I knew it!" he said happily. "I knew you wouldn't betray me! You understand how important this all is"

"No!" Henri disagreed pushing away from his father. "You're wrong, you've always been wrong! Attacking the king, killing the musketeers, it's all wrong!"

Aramis took a breath and pushed himself upright, pain radiated up and down his side but he wasn't sure he could get up, he slipped his arm out of the sling. The extra pain would make no difference at this point.

"After all I have done for you," Drago said, bringing up his sword in the gap between him and his boy. "I should kill you for this, they are here because of you aren't they? You let them in?"

Aramis could tell Henri was all but crying, "yes."

"Why you!" Drago stepped closer to the boy and Aramis finally stumbled to his feet and taking his borrowed sword out, it looked like they would be doing this the hard way.

"Because they are right and you are wrong!" Henri yelled, taking a slight step back as his father came at him.

"Fight me!" Drago yelled and the boy drew his sword almost falling backwards as his father's blade smashed into his.

Aramis rushed forward, "no, fight me!" He blocked Drago's next hit and successfully acquired Drago's attention.

He defended himself for the next few hits, but Drago was big and powerful and Aramis simply had no energy to put into the fight. Then Drago made a mistake and Aramis' blade caught his side making the man back off slightly.

"I should have killed you," Drago said angrily, "the moment you came in here and I knew you would have no use. I should have killed you like I killed the other one, like I killed the others that day."

Aramis took a breath but let the words wash over him, he couldn't afford to get angry. Drago attacked again and for a moment they were well matched but then Aramis began to make mistakes, he missed a parry and Drago's sword licked his side, he spun away but hadn't the speed of his opponent, the black spots on his vision were slowing him down. He managed to defend a few more hits and then Drago growled and hit his blade with such force Aramis fell to his knees, the next swing of the sword had his blade out of his hand and then Drago smiled and kicked him in the injured shoulder. The pain went off the charts. Aramis thought he heard his name being called but he only found darkness.

AN: hee hee!

Much thanks to my reviewers, please do leave more!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Mastery of the man.

D'Artagnan finally killed his opponent and glanced over at Athos and Porthos, they were still fighting several men but it must have been at least a minute since Aramis and Henri had fled the hall. They had worked their way closer to the door but not beyond the fighting. He believed the musketeers were wining but their enemy was putting up quite a fight.

"Go!" Athos yelled before D'Artagnan got caught up in another fight.

D'Artagnan hesitated for only a second longer before racing towards door and out of the room. Across the hall fighting reigned and D'Artagnan guessed they had not gone in there, which only left the corridor. He froze, not knowing whether to go back towards the kitchens or in the other direction. Then he heard a single gunshot and raced down the unknown corridor in the direction it had come from.

The corridor seemed infinitely long when he was desperate to reach Aramis but finally his long legs brought him to his destination. His blood ran cold as he took in the scene upon entering the room, Aramis was on the floor and he was unable to tell if he lived. Henri had come between the fallen musketeer and his father, sword held up, and the big man was now forcing the boy back with blow after blow until Henri was all but sprawled on the floor beside his still form of his protector.

D'Artagnan had heard of fathers that did not care for their children, even ones that had killed them, but they had all been stories. His father had been his rock, a mountain of a man he could rely on, and, as he had grown up, he had become a trusted confidant, a man he greatly respected. The idea that he could have ever demonstrated such anger and rage towards him was foreign, and terrifying. The scene before him was shocking, but he had barely slowed his run as he had entered the room and he didn't hesitate in coming between them, forcing Drago back with his sword and a yell before the man killed the boy.

Drago backed up taking in this new threat and D'Artagnan pushed his advantage striking at him angrily again and again. This was the man who had killed nine musketeers and injured Aramis so severely. He realised he had made an error a moment or two later when Drago sized him up and went on the offensive. The man was more powerful than he expected and he struck D'Artagnan's sword aside, and, as D'Artagnan tried to duck to the side to regroup, he struck again, hitting him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword. For a second D'Artagnan saw stars, his momentum carried him away from Drago, stumbling across the floor. He brought himself to a halt, unsteadily readying for a follow up attack, but none came directly.

Drago laughed, "is this the best of the musketeers? No wonder they are so easy to kill!"

D'Artagnan looked over to Aramis, Henri was sat beside him alternating looks between the fighting men and the one on the floor. "How is he?" he asked the boy.

"He won't wake up!" Henri cried. Drago smirked confidently, he evidently thought them to be no threat.

"Is he alive?" D'Artagnan persisted.

"I think so," Henri had a hand on Aramis' chest. "He is breathing."

Drago laughed again and D'Artagnan looked back to him with a determined frown. He had made a mistake, underestimating the enemy and then letting his anger get the better of him. How many times had Athos told him not to? He took a breath.

"You've defeated your son and a badly injured musketeer," he taunted Drago. "And me, well I'm not even a musketeer."

Drago sneered and they lunged at each other, meeting in the middle. This time D'Artagnan was more cautious, he let Drago make the mistakes and then took advantage. And the man did, one after another, D'Artagnan nicked his arm, caught his side and eventually sent Drago sprawling backwards, a cut to the arm and flick of his blade sent the man's sword skittering across the floor. He had won and he paused with his sword to Drago's neck. He was sorely tempted to cut it, Drago was not laying still, he had not given up, killing him would be an easy end. And a fitting one.

"At least, I'm not a musketeer yet!"

"Don't!" Henri called desperately from behind him. "Please don't kill him!"

D'Artagnan froze, as did Drago, he couldn't kill the man in front of his son.

"D'Artagnan!" came a call. Athos.

"In here!" he called back.

He shifted to see the doorway, sword still at Drago's neck and seconds later Athos and Porthos raced into the room. They froze in the doorway, taking in the situation.

"Aramis," D'Artagnan nodded his head towards the still man. Jolted out of their surprise the two of them ran over to him, kneeling beside him. "Is he okay?"

"Aramis?" Pothos called him.

"He's alive," Athos declared. "Beyond that..." The two of them were opening Aramis' jacket.

"That's a lot of blood," Porthos commented though D'Artagnan couldn't quite see from where he stood.

"You know I would never harm you, don't you Henri?" Drago said mournfully from his position on the floor.

"Quiet," D'Artagnan directed him, reminding him of the sword to his neck.

"I was just angry," Drago continued. Henri glanced over but looked back to Aramis, quickly rubbing his eyes with his arm.

"I don't think there are new injuries," Athos said. "He's just ripped it all open. What happened?"

"He fought my father," Henri didn't really explain.

"Of course he did," Athos was not surprised.

"We need Rousset," Porthos said urgently to Athos, distracted with stemming the bleeding.

"Henri, listen to me, please!" Drago pleaded. D'Artagnan was getting annoyed at him.

Athos thought for a moment, "Henri, find Treville," he instructed, the boy hesitated. "Go, the fighting was all but over when we left."

Henri ran out of the room. D'Artagnan looked back down to the man he was keeping on the floor. Drago's confidence seemed to have drained out of him with the realisation of what he had done to his son, his gaze lingered on the doorway the boy had left through.

"What do we do with him?" he asked Athos.

Athos looked up from Aramis to Drago on the floor. He then looked round the room before getting up and going over to a rope that secured some practice staffs to the wall, he soon had it free of them, sending most of them clattering to the floor. Athos tied the rope around Drago's hands with the skill of a man that had done it many times before. D'Artagnan put away his sword finally happy he wasn't going anywhere. Drago didn't put up a fight, and Athos let him sit up before looking at D'Artagnan, he frowned pulling him away from their prisoner.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

D'Artagnan frowned, not sure what he was referring to, "what?"

"You're bleeding," Athos indicated the side of his face.

D'Artagnan touched his face and sure enough found blood coming down from high on his temple, pretty much in the hair line and almost as far back as his ear. He winced as he found the cut, it wasn't big but was on a rather large bump and come to think of it his head was hurting. Despite the small cut the blood was all over the side of his face.

"Drago got the better of me for a moment," he admitted.

Athos watched him for a second and D'Artagnan could not tell what he was thinking. "We'll have Rousset look at it once he had seen Aramis," he decided.

"And what about you?" D'Artagnan asked noticing the strip of fabric Athos had tied to his upper right arm. It was also bloody.

"Someone was trying to shoot Porthos," Athos replied. "It's just a scratch."

D'Artagnan let a slight smile appear "wouldn't it have been easier to move Porthos rather be shot yourself?"

"Have you seen Porthos?" Athos jested back, before getting serious. "There wasn't time, the shot would have killed him but only winged me."

"Athos, some help here?" Porthos sounded worried and D'Artagnan followed the older man back to Aramis' side.

"What?" Athos asked, Aramis didn't look good.

"There is too much blood, I think he is bleeding from the back too," Porthos said as he and Athos shared a look.

"Do we wait for Rousset?" Athos was looking for opinions.

"He won't be able to do anything here," Porthos replied pointedly.

"Athos!" Footsteps heralded Henri's return and behind him came Treville and several men.

"You got Drago," Treville spotted the man tied up, but his attention was distracted by Aramis on the floor.

"Yes," Athos replied formally, eyes scanning the men Treville had with him. D'Artagnan knew none of them were particularly good medics, Rousset had been left in the courtyard, though D'Artagnan assumed the great doors into the courtyard would have been opened once the fighting had stopped.

"Aramis?" Treville asked as the men with him secured Drago.

"We need Rousset," Athos was already helping Porthos lift Aramis. The two of them stood and Porthos took Aramis' weight in his arms. D'Artagnan was chilled by the blood on the floor.

"Of course, go" Treville stepped aside. "He was in courtyard somewhere but was being fetched into the halls to help the men there."

Athos and Porthos rushed off and D'Artagnan followed, almost tripping over a frozen Henri.

"Come on," he said to the boy, pulling him alongside him as he went. Henri obviously didn't know what to do but let D'Artagnan direct him.

"Will he be alright?" Henri asked.

"I don't know," D'Artagnan answered honestly.

They soon came to the halls the fighting had been in, the area was busy, the fighting was over but men were being tied up and escorted away, weapons were being picked up and injuries tended to. Athos ran into one of the halls shouting for Rousset and D'Artagnan helped Porthos put Aramis on the ground, it scared him how still the older man was. Though he usually looked to the three of them for reassurance in these situations, Athos and Porthos both seemed just as scared as he was. Porthos seemed barely aware of him, more distracted with stemming the blood that was pouring from what D'Artagnan assumed was the arrow exit wound under Aramis' arm, despite the pressure Porthos was applying Aramis didn't stir. Poor Henri was standing to the side looking terrified, D'Artagnan tried to give him a reassuring smile. Athos and Rousset quickly appeared and came over.

"What happened?" Rousset asked, kneeling and looking Aramis over.

"Henri, can you tell us exactly what happened?" Athos inquired.

"I..." Henri seemed to struggle.

"It will help Aramis," Porthos told the boy.

Henri took a deep breath looking to the friend he had made these last few days. "I didn't let Aramis shoot my father but then when I told my father he was wrong he told me to fight him. He was too strong and Aramis got between us, they fought for a while but Aramis was obviously too injured to win and my father disarmed him and then kicked him in his injured shoulder and he passed out," Henri said with barely a breath.

"I saw you protect him," D'Artagnan commented wanting to acknowledge that Henri had been brave.

"I couldn't though," Henri said sadly, "my father wanted to kill him and look what happened."

"He hasn't killed him yet," Rousset dismissed, matter of factly. "Is there somewhere with a bed we can go?" he asked in general still working on Aramis.

The three of them looked back to Henri.

"There are rooms just upstairs," the boy said quickly.

"Then let's go up there," Rousset said standing and picking up his bag.

D'Artagnan helped Porthos pick up Aramis again and they headed upstairs. Henri raced in front of them and into a nearby room. It was, D'Artagnan realised, a suite of rooms; a large bed room, dressing room and wash room. Porthos put Aramis on the bed and he and Athos helped Rousset undress him so he could sew him back up. D'Artagnan hung back feeling more useful comforting Henri.

"Is this your room?" he asked the boy as Henri went over and put his sword on a stand on the dresser.

"Yes," Henri asked, his gaze drifting back to Aramis, there was little to see, just a lot of blood.

It was a very nice room, Drago had liked only the best for his son. The bed was well built, D'Artagnan bet the mattress was feather, and there were numerous comfortable chairs and fine draws around the room. There were also two large windows and D'Artagnan realised it was getting late, the sun was setting, it had probably been an hour or two since the beginning of the attack. It felt like so long ago since they come through those tunnels.

Rousset had evidently finished sewing up the reopened wound in Aramis' side as Porthos and Athos were helping to hold him up so he could sew the back. D'Artagnan gulped, Aramis obviously still lived or they would not be helping him, but he looked so pale.

"He looks like he did when he first came here," Henri said softly.

"He'll be alright," D'Artagnan said to the boy, though it was him that need to hear the words. "He was before right?"

"Yeah," Henri replied with a smile, "he was."

The stood in silence for a few more minutes as Rousset finally finished and bandaged Aramis back up. Then they sorted out the sheets and made Aramis comfortable.

"Well?" D'Artagnan asked as none of them said anything. Porthos and Athos looked to Rousset.

"Well, given the damage I am amazed he is alive, but, aside from pulling the stitches, I have no idea what more damage was done in his fight as I didn't see him before hand," Rousset replied.

"Will he be alright?" D'Artagnan asked, getting to the crux of the matter.

"I would guess so. His heart is beating, slowly but it's there, his breathing is shallow and I think he has cracked ribs."

"He did before," Porthos commented.

"Well they can't be much worse or they would have punctured a lung and then he would not be breathing," Rousset decided. He patted Pothos on the shoulder, "cheer up guys, Aramis is stubborn, he won't go anywhere. Let's just let him rest, I'm sure he will be awake and pestering you in the morning."

They all smiled a bit at that. D'Artagnan was glad to see Henri looked happier too.

"I probably ought to see what is happening," Athos made to run a hand though his hair, before realising it was covered in his friends blood and dropping it.

"Not so fast," Rousset said, "I think the three of you need looking at too."

D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow as Rousset indicated them. Henri giggled at their expressions and when D'Artagnan looked at him he stopped quickly and, still grinning, went and pulled a chair over to the bed to sit with Aramis.

"There is nothing wrong with me," Porthos disagreed, though D'Artagnan couldn't tell if there was as he just had Aramis' blood down him, goodness knows if any was his.

"Right," Rousset said, putting his bag on a chest of draws and pulling Athos over to look at his arm. "And I am sure your coat usually has a rip in the lower back."

"What?" Porthos tried to look down his back. D'Artagnan stepped over to have a look, sure enough there was a horizontal cut across his lower back, he pulled the edges and could see blood beneath. Porthos hissed as he did so. "I can't believe I've cut this jacket."

D'Artagnan chuckled and Athos joined in. "It can't be that bad," D'Artagnan commented, Porthos had obviously not noticed the wound.

"I don't know," Porthos replied, he slipped the jacket off and inspected the damage to the garment. "I don't want to have to buy a new one."

"I'm sure it can be sewn," Athos said practically, wincing as Rousset sewed him up.

"I don't know if it will look the same though," D'Artagnan said joining in with the jesting. Porthos gave him a withering look.

"That is not helpful," Athos warned. D'Artagnan smiled.

Rousset patched them all up. Not long after he was done with Athos he was inspecting D'Artagnan's head wound, which he was glad to hear would not need stitched, when Treville arrived.

"How is he?" Treville asked indicating Aramis.

"Okay, considering," Athos replied. "Rousset is hopeful he will wake by morning."

"Good, that's very good," Treville nodded, looking relieved.

"How is everyone else?" Porthos inquired.

"No other major injuries among the musketeers," Treville reported.

"That's good," Athos said.

"Yes, lots of cuts and scrapes, a broken ankle, but not too bad considering," Treville agreed. "Ames

lost a couple of men and a couple not looking so good but it could have been a lot worse."

"Everything under control then?" Athos asked him.

"Yes, we think most of Drago's men are in custody, though we are still searching the castle. Ames has men talking with the villagers and servants to sort out what will happen to who in terms of charges against the men," Treville said. He raised an eyebrow "all the servants are being very helpful."

"Yes, apparently most of them were not particularly fond of Drago," Athos admitted.

"Well, there is still a lot to sort out, but food is being cooked and beds organised, you are free to stay with Aramis if you wish," Treville offered knowing the three of them wouldn't be going anywhere. They nodded. "I will have food sent up. You've done good work, I don't expect to see you until the morning."

"Thank you," Athos smiled.

Treville left and Rousset soon finished patching them up and left too. D'Artagnan went over to a comfortable seat and sank into it. It was bliss. His head pounded and he ached, and it was nice to relax with the others, the four of them back together again. Porthos dragged another chair over to the bed, sitting on it and putting his feet up on very end of the bed and closing his eyes. Athos, too, collapsed into a seat with a groan.

"Now what?" Henri asked them.

"We relax," Porthos said, "wait for Aramis to wake up," he cracked an eye open to look at the boy. "Though you know you should enjoy the peace and quiet before he does."

Henri smiled at that.

"You did well too, Henri," Athos said.

"I don't know about that," Henri said.

"Your father is caught and we are all still alive," Athos continued. "I would consider that a success."

"And what now?" Henri said quietly.

D'Artagnan looked to Athos and Porthos. He hadn't thought of that. The four of them would go home but what would happen to the boy who's father they had captured?

"Let's worry about that in the morning," Athos decided. Henri didn't look comforted.

"Yeah," D'Artagnan smiled at him. "For now we are in your room so I guess you are staying with us."

They all chuckled, before falling into an exhausted silence again. Eventually food was brought and they ate it before they nodded off.

AN: So they finally got Drago and are all back together again, yey! but I do believe there is another bad guy still to play her cards... :-D


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: The snake strikes.

Milady walked soundlessly down the corridor towards the rooms she understood were occupied by Drago's advisor Fitz. It was mid afternoon and she had just finished lunch with Drago, it had not been particularly pleasant, she was beginning to get bored out here in the sticks. The food had been passable but nothing like the standard of cuisine available in Paris and, whilst she usually enjoyed Drago's company, he had been paranoid these last two days with reports of musketeers in the hills. She didn't doubt his paranoia was warranted, they were actually out to get him, but it did make him poor company. Since the musketeers were obviously near she intended to finally make a move before they attacked. She was certain they would.

She knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and entering. The rooms were on the second floor and were not high ceilinged or ornate but were a decent size and filled well with books and furniture. An old man sat at a cluttered desk, glasses perched on his nose, a book open before him.

"Can I help you?" he asked as she entered.

"Yes, are you Fitz?" she asked pleasantly.

"Indeed," he replied as she came further into the room, taking an interest in the plethora of things scattered around.

"I am..."

"I know who you are," he interrupted. "Milady de Winter."

"I see my reputation precedes me," she smiled, she didn't remember having met the man before, Drago had called him a hermit.

"Drago has mentioned you, the cardinal's pet," he said, looking at her suspiciously.

She looked away, pretending to be interested in the books in the book case. At least the man had confirmed he knew about the cardinal, it was nice to be certain, not that it would have affected her plans. Drago was definitely a fool though, to have told a man like Fitz of the arrangement, based on two minutes with him she would not trust him with the simplest of secrets.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked and she turned round again leaning back on the bookcase with a coy smile.

The man had a jug of wine on his desk, and was probably drinking it as there was an empty glass beside it. It would be perfect for her plan she just needed to distract him for a few moments. She went over to the desk leaning over it to talk to him. Despite being old and a hermit she was glad to find she was having an affect on him, he didn't seem to notice she had a face. She cleared her throat and his eyes snapped guilty up to hers'.

"I was speaking to Drago this morning about the battle of Gibraltar," she started.

"Oh yes?" Fitz replied still sounding suspicious. "And how did that come up?"

"We were discussing politics," she replied. "Drago thinks France should increase the size of it's fleet."

"And you disagree?" he asked and she smirked; she was getting his attention.

"France cannot afford to finance a fleet the size of the Spanish or the Dutch," she said. "And if we had such a large fleet would we not be drawn into battles like the one at Gibraltar?"

"That battle was more than ten years ago, part of a larger war between Spain and the Netherlands," Fitz argued. "If we had a larger fleet we would not necessary become involved in sea battles but could gain more wealth from exploration!"

"Part of a larger war you say?" she asked turning to look at the book case. "Do you have a book on it?"

"Well I probably do," Fitz slowly got up from his chair and came round the desk, going over to scrutinise the book case. As soon as his back was turned, she slid a vial out of her sleeve and unstoppered it and poured it's contents into the jug. "Perhaps this one."

He pulled a large book out of the shelf and came back over to the desk, putting the volume down and opening it. "This discusses relations between Spain and the Netherlands," he said. "Though it is probably too old for the battle at Gibraltar."

Milady hummed with fake interest and took a seat at the desk. Fitz proceeded to talk about the relations of two countries she had no interest in and she was very grateful ten minutes later when he poured a drink, there were only so many banal comments she could make. It didn't take long to have an effect.

"Oh," Fitz said a hand going to his stomach, the other took his glasses off. "I must apologise I am not feeling well."

"Well," Milady sat back. "Perhaps I can come back later?" It was hard to keep the smugness out of her voice but Fitz didn't notice.

He nodded, not really noticing her as he stood up and came around the desk. "If you will excuse me," he said but he did not make it far before collapsing onto the floor.

"Oh dear," Milady said dramatically as she rose and crouched by him.

"Please, you must get some help," Fitz said, a hand still on his stomach.

"I don't think so," she said with a smile.

"You..." he looked at her aghast. "You've poisoned me!"

"As if a lady would do such a thing," she replied.

"Why?" he asked breathlessly.

"Because Drago has made a mess and will soon be paying for it," she said matter of factly.

"The cardinal was supposed to be Drago's ally!" Fitz started coughing.

"Drago has drawn too much attention to himself," she told him, he would be dead shortly there was no harm in him hearing it. "The cardinal needs to make sure no one works out their agreement."

"So...you're... killing me?" Fitz wheezed.

"Yes," she stood as the man before her started to convulse.

"You're...evil..." he managed to get out.

"That is the prevailing opinion," she admitted. She went over to the desk taking the remaining wine and going to the window to pour it away. It was always good practice to hide the evidence. By the time she put the jug back down the man on the floor was still, unseeing eyes looking to the ceiling. She considered hiding him, she had no idea how much time before an attack came, but then she spotted a key handing on a hook by the door. She smiled.

Milady left the room locking the door behind her, pleased that it had been so easy. She considered returning to the main halls or Drago's rooms but a moment of curiosity struck her. She went up a few more flights of stairs to the corridor she understood Aramis was on, a few carefully asked questions had got her that information without anyone being too suspicious. The castle was quiet up here, in fact she had met no one on the way which was promising. She soon found the room he was in and paused. She wondered what she was doing, if she entered the room would she kill the man? She enjoyed killing but only did it when necessary. Killing Aramis would devastate Athos, but not unless he knew Aramis was here and would arrive to find the body. She sighed, she didn't know enough information about the situation. But what was there to know? Aramis was here, Athos would come. She opened the door quietly, and frowned. The room was empty. There was not even any indication anyone had been in here, there was a bed frame but no mattress and no other items in the room of note. Perhaps she got the wrong room? She checked the other rooms on the corridor, only one had any indication anyone had been in it. A three bed room with mattresses and unmade beds. Unless Aramis had room mates she was not sure he had been up here.

She left the corridor feeling rather annoyed at the failure of her search. If Aramis was elsewhere in this castle it would take a very long time to search it to find him. She changed tact and went back down the stairs all the way to the guard hall. She put on a smile as she entered the room carefully letting her red cloak and dress fall down enough to be distractingly revealing. Near the main entrance to the castle, this room was the large hall to house the guards to the castle, it was full of Drago's men, mostly his well trained payed ones rather than the large number of useless village boys he had loitering in the castle. The men in the room all stopped what they were doing as she entered and she smiled pleasantly at them. She came to a halt in the middle of the room.

One of the man finally got over his speechlessness "can we help you?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm looking for your captain Mason."

She had met the man before at Drago's fancy dinners but could not spot him among the guards and did not know where he spent his time. But Drago had named Mason as one of the men who knew of his arrangement with the cardinal so he needed to be got rid of.

"Er, he is likely in his office down the hall," the same man replied pointing in the direction she assumed the office was in.

"Thank you," she said heading out of the room and down the corridor. It did not take long to find as the door was open and Mason was peering at some paperwork on his desk. She cleared her throat in the doorway.

"Ah, Milady," he said smiling as she entered. "How can I be of assistance?"

"I was just passing," she said smiling pleasantly back. "I wondered what you were up to."

She scrutinised the room and the man considering what would be the best move, idly wondering if a musket shot would be heard here. His room appeared to overlook the courtyard so it might be noticed.

"Just looking at training rotas," he dismissed.

"Oh?" she looked back to him. Perhaps now was not the time to make a move, at least not in this room.

Then there was a commotion in the courtyard, Mason frowned going to the window to look out.

"What is it?" she asked his coming over.

"I don't know," he replied, "someone is raising the portcullis."

"Why would someone do that?"

"They wouldn't, not without my prior permission," Mason said. "What is that man doing?"

Milady could see the man he referred to, he seemed to be indicating to something out the gate house, the men in the yard were mostly running around like headless chickens. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Are we under attack?" she asked putting some pretend worry into her voice. She had been expecting this.

Mason frowned at her. Stepping over to the desk to pick up his pistol and sword. Then Milady heard a thundering sound, the portcullis was up now. Mason came back over to the window just in time to see horse men entering the courtyard. Musketeers. He left her side, Milady imagined he was about to run from the room and direct his men but she was quicker. Taking her pistol out of her cloak she shot the man in the back before he made it half a dozen steps. She didn't bother to check him instead leaving the room and shutting the door behind her, she headed away from the guard hall. As she rounded a corner she heard Mason's men calling for him and, shortly after, their dismay when they found his body but they hadn't time to search for the assassin.

She wondered where Drago might be but luck was with her as she ascended a set of stairs and ran into Edgard, the third man Drago had told.

"What is happening?" he asked her.

"We are under attack," she replied as she looked up and down the corridor for any witnesses. There were none. Good, she was in a rush now.

"By whom?"

"Musketeers," she said, "but I don't think you need to worry about them."

"What?" Edgard said irritated. She smiled and stepped closer, sliding a blade between his ribs. He gasped in shock and as she twisted the blade he collapsed, trying to hold onto her as he fell. She stepped away taking the blade with her and by the time he hit the floor he was lifeless. She smiled again, it wasn't often she did that so well, she crouched and cleaned the blade on his clothes before walking away quickly. She could hear voices.

She headed upwards, wanting to find a quiet place to remain while the fighting was occurring. It wasn't hard, the castle was very large. Up on the top floors she could have a view of the action but no one came up here. Below her the fighting reigned. Early on she spotted Athos in the courtyard, with his three friends, it appeared he had already found Aramis and she doubted she would be able to get to him for the rest of the musketeers stay here. An injured musketeer would be easy to kill but not with the others watching over him.

Dark eventually fell, as did Drago's castle. Once the main doors were opened and his men brought out tied up she was sure the attackers had triumphed. Problem was, she had no idea of Drago still lived. The men below her were active well into the night. The musketeers probably had a lot to sort out she mused, Drago had a lot of men. She would have to wait until things were quieter before she made her move. She did not sleep, but stayed hidden on the top floors until the early hours, earlier in the night she had heard people searching the castle but had easily hidden from them, as it got later no one moved about at all. Most of the people in the courtyard had moved inside as the night got chilly leaving only a few guards and a couple of fires. She was not sure how she would get her horse out but she would come to that later.

Once she was sure it was late enough she headed down stairs. Easily sneaking soundlessly along the corridors. She decided the first place to check would be Drago's rooms, if the man was a prisoner it was the most likely place they would put him. Sure enough the rooms were guarded, ftwo men standing outside the door. Fortunately she knew another way in, the castle was full of servant tunnels and escape holes, she had long ago worked out the one in Drago's room. She was soon pushing open a hidden panel in the room and slipping in, there were no guards inside the rooms, just Drago himself sound asleep on the bed. She was surprised they had left him alone, but then musketeers where honourable, happy to take a man at his word. And Drago was, after all, still in here.

As she stepped closer she realised his hands were chained together, though there was nothing tethering him to the bed he was on. She wondered how she was going to do this. She could kill him in his sleep very easily, but there was still time to take him with her, perhaps the cardinal might find him useful in the future.

"I know you are there," came his voice and she nearly jumped out of her skin, it was very rare for people to startle her. She didn't reply wondering if he was actually referring to her. The room was dark, there was a lantern on by the door and the light of the moon coming in but she doubted he could see her. Then his head turned and she could make out that he was looking in her direction "I can smell you, your jasmine."

She came closer reaching the bed and sitting on the edge. "You made a mistake," she said with a sigh.

"That is why you are here isn't it?" he asked her. She tilted her head but made no reply. The man before her was not the Drago she knew, this was his shell, a broken version of him. "The cardinal foresaw my down fall and sent you to clear up the mess."

"You should not have picked a fight with the musketeers," she told him lightly. She hadn't expected this.

"Who cares about the musketeers, or your cardinal," he replied looking up. "It's my son that betrayed me, I did this all for him and what did he do? Showed the musketeers the way in."

"Your son let them in?" she was surprised to hear that.

"Yes, that musketeer I gave him twisted his mind," Drago lamented. "Convinced him that I was wrong, when I tried to explain to him he would not listen, he let the musketeer have me. I would have killed my own son..."

Milady frowned, Drago seemed to be almost crying. Was that all he cared about? That stupid boy of his? He had never payed him that much attention. She said nothing. Perhaps now was a good time to stick a knife in his ribs, any thoughts she had of rescuing him had gone, she had liked the powerful Drago, the scary mad man, not this thing before her.

"Do it," he said quietly.

"What?" she said.

"Do it, kill me," he said.

"You want me to kill you?" she asked confused.

"I have failed," Drago continued. "I have failed to get my position back for my son, I have failed to teach him to be a great man. He does not need me anymore and I would deprive the king of the pleasure of my execution, I would deprive these musketeers of their justice." He looked right at her then. "Whatever I would or would not do you will kill me anyway, wouldn't you?"

She thought this would be easier than it was turning out to be, "yes."

"Then perhaps this way you will be kinder?"

After a moment, she stood up, slowly going over to a jug on the sideboard. She poured a glass of water and took out another vial, from her cloak this time. She tipped it all in the glass and gave it a swirl before going over to him with it. She helped him sit up and gave him the glass.

"Are you sure?" she asked falteringly.

"Don't have second thoughts now," he replied giving a mad smile. "You are the assassin for the cardinal after all, aren't you?"

She looked to him in surprise, she didn't know he had worked that out. He leaned over and kissed her, and for moment she savoured it.

"Well, you've done your job," he said and downed the drink in one. The poison was the same as the one she had used earlier but much more concentrated. With in seconds Drago was falling back to the bed convulsing, "at least they will not win completely," he said breathlessly. Within a minute he was gone and she found that she had been crying. Wetness on her cheeks. She berated herself, she had not loved him, nor really cared for him. But she had admired him, their nights together had been very pleasurable and he had obviously delighted in her. She cursed her feelings, what did it matter that he was dead? He would never have succeeded, she knew that. This had been an inevitable end for some time now.

After a while he started to go cold and she realised she should leave. She left the room the same way she had entered it, she must have been an hour or more in the room but the guards had not come in once. She took a long deep breath in the hidden passage and put her feelings aside. She had done her job. All the men the cardinal wanted dead were. She looked along the passage, the room beyond Drago's was his son's and she wondered if the boy would be in there.

She went to the door, Drago's hidden door had exited at the corner across from the bed, but she had never seen Henri's room and had no idea where the door came out. She pushed it slowly, just wide enough to poke her head through, this room was slightly better lit than Drago's, two lanterns still burning and she froze as she saw who was in the room. Henri was here but also Athos and his three dear friends. They were gathered around the bed in which Aramis lay, they were all asleep but she didn't doubt the smallest noise would wake them, Athos, she knew, was a light sleeper. She felt a pang of longing as she watched him sleep, but it was quickly replaced by an all consuming anger she was glad to let come back after feeling soft with Drago. She couldn't do anything here, she would probably not harm one musketeer before the others woke and stopped her, she certainly couldn't get to Henri so she left shutting the door behind her as quietly as she entered. Another time.

She headed down to the stables, taking steps that brought her down into the middle of them without having to go outside. The horses were sleeping and there was no one here. She quickly found her horse and fetched her saddle, she was forced to light a lantern at this point but hopefully no one would notice. Within a few minutes her horse was saddled and she let him out of the stable, as soon as his hooves hit the cobbles it felt like she had let off cannons, she doubted they would get very far. They had the whole length of the stable to walk and then across the guarded courtyard. She told the horse to wait and he stood stock still as she went back to the tack room and fetched some bandages and sack cloth, one by one she put the cloth on his hooves and held it in place with the bandages. Then when they walked it was much quieter. She lead him to the doors of the stables, they were open, in the courtyard perhaps a dozen or so men stood warming themselves by fires. It was an hour or so till dawn, the time of the night when, in her experience, guards were the sleepiest and certainly none had noticed her there.

She lead her horse to the mounting block in the doorway and climbed on. The animal stood ready to go, feeling her nervous tension. Then she gave it the signal and beneath her the horse exploded forwards, racing across the courtyard towards the gates. The men shouted in surprise, but in the firelight they could tell she was a woman and she didn't doubt that was all that saved them from firing at her. Within seconds they were through the gate and heading down the road. It was hairy, her horse slipped every now and again with the fabric on his feet but it meant their escape was almost silent. Once they got a few minutes away from the castle the road she slowed him down, travelling slowly through the village, she didn't think anyone would stop her here but she would travel for a while before she took of the cloth socks.

She was glad to be rid of that castle, glad to put it behind her and return to Paris. Now that Drago was gone she could get back to her vendetta with Athos. The cardinal would surely be pleased with her work here, hopefully that would get her some leniency next time she wanted to go after the man. And she most certainly intended to.

AN: whew, long chapter, a bit late, but I've only just finished this one. It's a lot of Milady and I very much hope it works, do review and let me know! :-D Back to the boys tomorrow!


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24: From enemies to friends.

Athos jolted awake from a pleasant dream of his past, he and his wife had been laying in a field of blue flowers, it had been so vivid he could almost smell them. He frowned, sitting upright as he realised he could still smell them now he was awake. There was a scent in the room but no evidence that anything was amiss, everyone else was still sound asleep. He sighed, slowly getting up from his chair and rubbing a hand over his face, he thought he was getting over this madness. He went across the room, soundlessly opening the door and exiting. He found a window that over looked the courtyard and opened it, enjoying the chill breeze on his skin. He leaned on the windowsill wincing as his arm complained, the bullet hole ached and but he'd had worse. As far as he could tell it was the early hours of the morning and everything was quiet.

Until his rather abrupt awakening he'd had a good night, they were all back together again, safely in a castle full of musketeers and, for a short while, had no responsibilities. They'd had a nice dinner, comfortable seats to sleep in and Mirabella had even come by late last night and taken their jackets away to be cleaned, after she had berated them for letting Aramis get more injured. Athos had been surprised her berating had not woken Aramis but their friend had slept on, once he was awake Athos was sure all would be right with the world.

His attention was caught by a light coming on in what he thought was the stables. He was curious but the guards in the courtyard payed it no mind so he continued watching. After a few minutes he spotted a shadow down in the doorway of the stables, he couldn't make out what was happening but a few seconds later a rider came racing out of the stables heading for the gates. A dark haired woman in red, a form he would recognise anywhere, he held his breath as the guards noticed her, yelling, but none of them fired a shot and she was soon gone.

He couldn't believe she had been here, what could she have been doing? A terror came over him as he realised she had been in the room with them, god knows for how long. He quickly got over his shock and ran back to the others, he just about stopped himself from barging into the room instead opening the door without letting it bang and closing it quietly behind him. He took a deep breath. Henri was fast asleep on the cot bed they had brought in from the other room, he could see him breathing, D'Artagnan, too, was breathing steadily where he lay on the sofa by wall. Porthos was obviously alive too.

"What's the matter?" Porthos asked quietly from where he was reclined in a large chair by the bed, Athos' return had woken him.

Athos ignored him stepping closer to the bed until he could see Aramis' chest rising and falling too. He finally let his breath out, they were all fine. Porthos frowned at him, following his gaze to Aramis before looking back at him with worry.

"Nothing," Athos finally told him. "I feared something may have happened."

"Nightmares again?" Porthos asked him.

"No," Athos replied quickly, it had been sometime since he had last woken the others with a nightmare he didn't want Porthos worrying about that. "No, is not that. I was just looking out into the courtyard when someone rode out of here."

"Someone... who?" Porthos asked, sitting up.

"A woman in red, someone we are familiar with," he said pointedly, Porthos caught on immediately.

"That's not good," he replied. "Why do you think she was here? Working for the cardinal?"

"Perhaps," Athos agreed, going back over to the chair he had vacated a while ago, at the other side of the bed. "But I suppose it can wait until morning."

"Hmm," Porthos stretched out putting his legs up in the bed. He looked over to the window. "I don't think it is long until morning."

Athos could see that too, but made no reply. Porthos put his head back and closed his eyes but Athos knew he was not sleeping. Athos didn't sleep either, staring into space and sorting things through in his mind. Eventually light crept through the room, and dimly Athos could hear the sounds of the castle waking up around them. He had just resolved to get up and see what was going on when the door opened, and Treville's head popped round the door.

"Athos, a word?" Treville said quietly before disappearing. It hadn't been a request and he gave Porthos a look before getting up and going to the door. He smiled as he noticed D'Artagnan had jolted awake at the intrusion and was now sitting up slowly with a yawn.

He left the room to find Treville standing waiting.

"Treville," he greeted. "Good morning."

"That remains to be seen," Treville said seriously. "Drago is dead."

"What?" Athos said. "How?"

"Poison," Treville replied succinctly.

"Suicide?"

"That would be a good bet except..."

"Except for the rider that escaped this morning," Athos interrupted.

"You saw that?" Treville asked.

"Yes," Athos admitted. "She works for the cardinal."

"How do you... never mind. What possible interest could the cardinal have here?" Treville said angrily, stepping away with a sigh.

"Are we surprised?" Athos inquired.

"I don't know," Treville looked back to him. "Either way, I guess we will not be returning Drago to Paris. Ames has agreed we may take some of his more senior guards with us but Drago's assassin seems to have been thorough."

"She killed more men?"

"Drago's guard captain was apparently shot dead just before we attacked, his brother in law was found stabbed to death and his oldest advisor was locked in his study poisoned with what Rousset believes is the same poison that killed Drago," Treville told him.

"Someone was clearing up," Athos summarised.

"They succeeded, the few remaining guards we have know very little about what their master was up to," Treville said. "Or why he attacked the musketeers."

"If the cardinal is involved then, there is no proof."

"No," Treville was obviously displeased. "The boy will need telling about his father."

Athos froze, he had not thought of that, he looked back to the room. "I'll tell him," he offered.

"If he wishes to see him he is still in his room, I told the men to wait before moving him," Treville replied.

Athos nodded and Treville left. He went back into the room, D'Artagnan was up sitting in the chair Athos had vacated, he and Porthos talking quietly. Henri wasn't in his bed.

"What was that about?" D'Artagnan asked him, looking worried at Athos' expression.

"Where is Henri?" Athos said and, as he did, the boy appeared from on of the other rooms in the suite. He was pulling on a shirt.

"Here," Henri replied looking happier than last night. Athos sighed, he was about to ruin that.

"Henri, come here," he hesitated beckoning the boy over. He could tell Porthos and D'Artagnan had worked out what he might be about to say. Henri wasn't stupid either.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Your father, he died in the night," he said slowly. Henri looked shocked but he made no sound. "He, er, he was poisoned." Athos didn't exactly know what to say.

"No," Henri said disbelievingly.

"Henri..."

"No," the boy pushed him away but Athos took his arms and held him still.

"Henri, I'm sorry," Athos said.

"Why?" Henri was crying now. "Why would..."

"I don't know," Athos admitted, he pulled the boy into his arms sharing a look with Porthos and D'Artagnan. He hated Drago, he was glad he was dead, but standing here telling a son his father was gone was very difficult. Henri hadn't deserved this. "He is in his room if you wish to see him."

"Yes," Henri said pulling away and wiping his eyes.

Athos smiled gently, "I know Aramis isn't awake but would you like one of us to come?"

"No, it's fine," Henri glanced over at Aramis, before leaving quietly.

The were silent for a moment after he left.

"How did that happen?" Porthos asked him.

"Good question," Athos said with a sigh. He was saved from explaining when a groan came from the bed. All three of their gazes snapped to Aramis who appeared to be waking up. Athos went over to the bedside. Aramis' eyes opened and took them all in before closing again with a wince at the morning light.

"Welcome back," Athos greeted him.

"What happened?" Aramis asked, uninjured arm coming up to rub at his face.

"You fought Drago," Porthos told him with a smile. "You lost."

"That seems unlikely," Aramis disagreed opening his eyes again. "I don't loose."

D'Artagnan chuckled and they were all pleased he still had his sense of humour.

"You do when you still recovering from an arrow to the chest," Athos didn't intend to let him off so lightly. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't know," Aramis admitted. "It wasn't intentional. Hold him off until you guys came, you did come right?"

"D'Artagnan did," Athos indicated the man in question, before turning from the bed and reaching for the small wooden chair, bringing it over and sitting on it.

"Oh?"

"I beat Drago for you," D'Artagnan said with a smile.

"You have my thanks," Aramis smiled back before frowning at the two of them, "what happened to you two?"

"We got held up," Porthos said. "You are lucky D'Artagnan got there before Drago killed you."

"I assure you I did not intend to get in a fight with Drago," Aramis said honestly, trying to push himself up in the bed.

"Careful," Porthos cautioned worriedly and he and Athos got up to help move the pillows for him to rest on. "All your stitches were torn."

"You shouldn't have run off after him alone," Athos said as Aramis settled.

"I know," Aramis said, he put on a slight smile "but you know should have told Henri that."

Athos looked away at the mention of Henri but Aramis wasn't fooled.

"Where is Henri?" he asked.

"Drago was found dead, poisoned, this morning," Porthos told him. "Henri's just found out."

"He is saying goodbye now," Athos continued.

Aramis rested his head back on the pillow. "Suicide?"

"No," Athos shook his head.

"Then how?"

"An assassin, but that's a story for another time," Athos said and Aramis frowned at him but none the less dropped it. Aramis then threw back the bed cover. "What are you doing?" Athos asked, alarmed.

"Going to see Henri," he replied as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I doubt you can manage," D'Artagnan pointed out.

"Henri was desperate that I did not kill his father yesterday, goodness knows how he is feeling now," Aramis said to D'Artagnan.

"He begged me not to kill him too," D'Artagnan admitted. "But he must have known that once we caught him he would likely be put to death anyway."

"It is one think to know it," Porthos said quietly, "entirely another to live it."

"His father is dead, his mother's dead, his brother's dead," Aramis listed as he tried to pull his legs free of the covers. "He hasn't anyone left, I don't intend to leave him as well."

"Your current actions suggest otherwise," Athos disagreed, frowning as Aramis winded himself.

"Well help me then," Aramis finally implored. Athos rose an eyebrow as Porthos duly got up and removed the cover before helping Aramis sit up properly.

"He would just do it himself anyway, at least this is quicker," Porthos defended himself.

"I was considering holding him down 'til he wore himself out," Athos replied honestly.

"Don't talk about me as though I am not here," Aramis interrupted.

D'Artagnan got up to help too, and once Aramis was sat on the side of bed he and Porthos helped him up. Athos sighed and stood too. The three of them had frozen as Aramis got used to standing.

"Painful?" Athos asked in jest.

"No, just peachy," Aramis replied breathlessly. Eventually he shrugged off his helpers and straightened. "Where is my shirt?"

"Getting washed, along with your jacket, my jacket and Athos' too," Porthos replied as he hovered in fear Aramis might fall.

Athos didn't approve, Aramis could barely stand and none of them were at their best, why couldn't they just stay here and relax?

"But not D'Artagnan?" Aramis smiled at him with pride.

"Don't get too excited, he bumped his head," Athos said, narrowing his eyes at their young apprentice.

"Headache?" Aramis asked D'Artagnan in his mothering mode that Athos had seen before. He smiled, he wasn't sure it was effective given Aramis' state.

"It's fine," D'Artagnan dismissed before changing the subject. "Don't you want to find Henri?" he asked indicating the door.

"Right," Aramis led them slowly out of the room and down the corridor.

Thankfully Drago's rooms were not far, the next door down in fact, though that was far enough given the size of the suites in this part of the castle. Outside the room the man Athos recognised as Ames was talking to some of his men. The door was open, and inside was quiet, just Henri standing beside his father's form laying on the bed.

"Henri?" Aramis said as they entered the room.

"Aramis," Henri turned and came over with a sad smile, "you're awake."

"Yep," Aramis put a hand on his shoulder, looking over to his father. "I'm sorry Henri."

"Yeah," Henri looked down, "what'll happen to me now?"

"I don't know, I'm sure we'll work it out," Aramis replied.

"He will come back with me," Ames said as he strode into the room.

"What?" Athos answered for them as they all frowned.

"My master, the duke, said that if either of his nephews were to be found, and they were of a good character, he would take them in," Ames replied, matter of factly.

"What If I do not wish to go with you?" Henri asked from Aramis' side.

"I don't think you understand," Ames frowned at the men lined up before him. "The duke has no wife or children, you are his heir."

Athos shared a glance with Aramis at that news, they hadn't known that Henri was Deverell's only heir.

"But I want to be a musketeer," Henri argued.

"Well that is not possible, you are a child, you will be under the care of your uncle and become a duke, not a musketeer," Ames was obviously confused at Henri's attitude. Athos didn't blame him, the boy wasn't foreign to the idea of being a duke and perhaps Ames could be forgiven in his belief that anyone would like to hear such news. But Ames could certainly have picked a better time and place to bring this up with the boy.

"Perhaps we can discuss this?" Aramis offered trying to calm the situation. The boy was his uncle's charge, they had no power to interfere.

"I do not understand your problem, he is the heir to the duke, his father is dead and the duke will take him in, in his missive his uncle said he is looking forward to having him," Ames said angrily. "I will say no more on the matter," and with that Ames marched from the room.

"I don't want to go," Henri told his retreating form before turning to Aramis imploringly. "I wish to come back with you."

"You are not old enough to be a musketeer," Aramis said softly.

"I am old enough to serve though," Henri argued.

"Doing what?" Aramis replied. "Working in the stables? Valeting our clothes until you are old enough to earn a commission?"

"Yes," Henri replied hopefully. "If that is what is required."

"I don't think you are cut out for that," Aramis said sadly.

"I want to go with you."

"Henri you are not a waif or stray we can take back home, you are the heir to a line of dukes, you must go with your uncle," Aramis told him straight.

Henri frowned obviously upset but having no other argument against Aramis, he looked to Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan only to see the same expressions on their face as Aramis'. Then he shrugged his shoulder free of Aramis' hand and ran out of the room.

Aramis was upset too and Athos had to admit this is not how he thought it would have ended. Aramis stepped towards the door slowly.

"This isn't your fault," Porthos told him.

"He wants to be a musketeer, I told him it was a possibility," Aramis turned back to them.

"You couldn't have known," Athos agreed with Porthos. "You never told him you would make it happen."

"I let him believe it though," Aramis shook his head. "Because it got him on my side."

He turned and left the room but they made no move to follow him, aware he didn't want them to.

"You should talk to Henri," Porthos said to him and Athos looked at him in surprise.

"Why me?" he asked.

"You were nobility, now you are a musketeer," D'Artagnan got where Porthos was going.

"I was comte de la Fere, he will be duc de Deverell, I don't think they are comparable," he argued.

Porthos and D'Artagnan shared a look.

"I don't know, they sure sound comparable to me," Porthos disagreed.

"A duke and a count are not the same I assure you. A count governs an area but a duke is in charge of a province, a military leader in charge of protecting France," Athos told them. "Henri will have much more responsibly than I ever had."

"He doesn't need to know all that," D'Artagnan shook his head. "Henri just needs to hear that there are possibilities whatever happens."

"Oh," Athos hadn't considered that. "Well I can do that."

"Good, good luck finding him," Porthos smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder, "we'll check on Aramis."

Porthos pulled D'Artagnan out of the room quickly and Athos watched them go suspiciously, he had a feeling he had been set up. But someone needed to talk to the boy, he did make the most sense.

He left the room wondering where a boy would go when feeling upset. He didn't know this castle, didn't know what haunts or hiding places were Henri's favourite. He could ask Mirabella but there was one sure guess that he would put money on. He went down the stairs and into the courtyard passing a lot of bustling people. It was chilly, the sun was not high enough to hit the courtyard, and he missed his jacket. People were still having breakfast, he spotted Ames talking with his men, he looked busy and Athos knew Treville was leaving a lot of the sorting of the situation to Ames since he knew this area.

He reached the doorway to the stable and entered. It was busy in here too, whatever the situation in the castle the horses still needed caring for. Athos idly wondered where all their horses were but now was not the time. He stopped someone, asking if they had seen Henri, the man was suspicious of him but eventually told him where he had seen the boy run to. Athos was glad he had guessed correctly. If Henri hadn't been here this could have been a long search.

He went down the stables soon finding the stall with a horse in he recognised as Henri's and sure enough the boy was sat quietly on a straw bale at the back.

"Henri?" Athos asked leaning over the door. The black horse came over to greet him.

"Go away," Henri said unhappily.

Athos didn't, instead opening the door to come and sit beside the boy. The horse looked at them, unhappy they were not paying him an attention, and instead went back to munching on hay. Athos sat quietly for a while letting Henri think before trying to tackle the situation.

"Aramis told you you could be a musketeer," Athos both stated and asked.

"Yes," Henri replied sadly.

"In so many words?" Athos wondered.

"I don't know," Henri admitted.

Not that it mattered, he wasn't here to discuss what Aramis had or had not told him, he just didn't want him to hate Aramis.

"He wasn't lying," Athos said at length.

"I can't be a musketeer," Henri frowned at him. "That man Ames says I am to be a duke."

"Anyone can be a musketeer, if they work hard enough" Athos told him honestly. "D'Artagnan will be a musketeer and he was a farmer, Porthos lived on the streets but he got a commission," he paused. "And I was the comte de la Fere and I became a musketeer."

Henri's eyes snapped to his hopefully then and Athos knew he had succeeded.

"You were?"

"Yes."

"Why'd you become a musketeer?" the boy asked him.

"For a lot of reasons," Athos avoided the question. "My point is you should give your uncle a chance, going to live with him isn't the end of the world, there will always be options for you."

"You think so?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't," he gave the boy a slight smile glad to see him return it. "You never know you might like living with your uncle, Ames said he is looking forward to having you."

"What's he like?" Henri asked. "Have you met him?"

"You haven't?"

"No, he was never around when I was younger, my father didn't like him," Henri played with some straw. "That probably means I'll like him."

"See? That's the spirit!" Athos said. Perhaps he was not as bad at this as he feared he might be. He described what he knew of the boy's uncle and spent sometime talking to him in that stable. By the time he dragged him out for some breakfast he was pretty sure he had a new friend, he could understand what Aramis saw in the boy.

AN: No one passed any opinions of the last chapter, I hope the characterisation wasn't too far off...sad times, not to worry, nearly finished, only a few more chapters to go! I hope people out there are still enjoying it! :-)


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Preparing to move on.

Aramis slowly made his way back to the room, he paused at the door and considered going further away to somewhere quieter but he didn't think he had the energy. He sighed pushing the door open and heading over to the bed. It was Henri's room, he realised as he looked around and recognised some of the boys things, he hadn't noticed before. He lay back down on the bed with a groan, he felt almost as bad as he did when he first woke up, it was a setback but at least he wasn't dead. He had D'Artagnan to thank for that, and Henri. Though, thinking about it, if Henri hadn't made the gun go off perhaps he would not have fought Drago, not that he blamed the boy.

He didn't get five minutes to wallow in his self pity before Porthos and D'Artagnan came into the room. He closed his eyes as the door opened, for what it was worth.

"We know you aren't sleeping," Porthos said as he came over to the bed. "Why are you even pretending?"

Aramis opened his eyes to see Porthos sitting on the chair by the bed, D'Artagnan remained standing crossing his arms and giving Aramis an amused look.

"Perhaps I do not wish to talk," Aramis said pointedly.

"That's fine, Porthos and I can talk then, you can listen" D'Artagnan replied. "You know Henri might still become a musketeer one day."

Aramis gave him an unimpressed look, how did he figure that? "I doubt it."

"Athos became a musketeer, why shouldn't Henri?" D'Artagnan continued.

"Athos is a one off," Aramis argued, "how many other musketeers were noble?"

"Well, for the most part, I don't think nobility generally want to become musketeers," D'Artagnan said with a thoughtful frown.

"Don't want to? Or does tradition and society mean they can't?" Aramis frowned at him.

"Does it matter?" Porthos said. "Perhaps Henri will like living with his uncle, and if he doesn't he always has you...

"And by extension, us," D'Artagnan interrupted.

"Yes," Porthos raised his eyebrow at D'Artagnan. "And us, to help him find a path in the musketeers."

Aramis sighed, what they were saying was true. "I just feel like I betrayed him, telling him about a world he can't be part of," he admitted to them.

"You were a friend to him when he needed it, but it is not as if he could have come and lived with us," Porthos said kindly.

"I know," Aramis looking at them unhappily. What would he do without them? "I just hope Henri knows that."

"He does," D'Artagnan said with a smile. "He's just upset, we sent Athos to talk to him."

"You sent Athos?" Aramis asked them with incredulity.

Porthos and D'Artagnan shared a look.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Porthos said after a moment.

"What's the problem? Athos is good with people," D'Artagnan argued.

This time Aramis and Porthos gave him a look.

"When he wants to be," D'Artagnan continued.

"No, no problem, I'm sure it's fine," Aramis said looking away again, Athos was good with people, but children? He sighed, he would probably find out soon how that worked out.

He didn't find out how Athos' talk with Henri went for a while because, as Porthos and D'Artagnan started talking about something he was not interested in, he fell asleep.

Aramis woke slowly as he thought he heard the door open, then he heard voices talking about him so he stayed still and kept his eyes closed. It wasn't hard, moving was painful but laying so still on such a comfortable bed was rather easy. Treville had entered, it sounded as if only Athos was in the room with him.

"How is he?" Treville was asking.

"He's doing alright considering," Athos replied. He sounded as if he was sat beside the bed.

"Where are the others?" Treville asked the question Aramis wanted the answer to as well.

"They are getting what, I guess, is a late breakfast, but the kitchen had made a lot of food when I was there with Henri so I'd imagine there is still food to be found," Athos told him.

"Hmm," Was Treville's comment and Aramis could tell he had more on his mind as he heard him sit also. "We'll be leaving after lunch."

"So soon?" Athos asked.

"Drago is dead and we've what's left of his guards to take back to Paris to face charges," Treville explained. "We are done here."

"What of all Drago's other men?"

"Village boys and trouble makers. Ames is going to spend today sorting them out I think. He has called character witness from the villages to speak for them and will choose on an individual basis whether to let their village deal with them or not," Treville said. "I think he will take quiet a few back with him and press them into service in his regiment for Deverell."

"Is that wise?" Athos sounded dubious.

"The boys want action, it would perhaps be less wise to leave so many of them here. I'm sure Ames can sort them out. Who knows? He might get some good men out of them."

"Are all the musketeers well enough to travel?" Athos asked and Aramis almost snorted, the idea of getting on a horse was not appealing.

"Rousett says they are, we might not be the prettiest troupe but we'll manage," Treville said.

"And what of Aramis?" Athos asked knowing Treville could not be considering him in that number.

"Rousett advises a cart," Treville said with some amusement. Aramis knew he could not be serious, Treville knew him better than that.

Athos laughed, "good luck getting him to stay in it for more than five minutes."

"I doubt he is well enough to go at the pace we wish to go at anyway," Treville said more seriously. "We should really manage without a cart, everyone else can ride and we can take a pack horse with Gill's body."

Aramis had almost forgotten about Gill, the man Drago had killed, presumably they had found him in the same cold room Aramis had seen him in.

"He would be better getting some rest, and having some time," Athos said carefully. Aramis could not see their faces but knew there must be some pointed looks going on.

"Very well," Treville finally said. "I expect the four of you to report back to Paris in a week."

Aramis could hear him getting up form his seat, Athos following suit respectfully. "Thank you," Athos was saying.

"I will have your horses fetched up from the farm before we leave, I am sure Ames will not mind Aramis having a horse from the stables here, I imagine most of them have no master now," Treville was leaving the room.

"A week then," Athos said in farewell.

"A week," Treville agreed as he opened the door. "Athos? Please try to keep yourselves out of trouble."

Aramis assumed Athos smiled in response as he said nothing and then the door was closed and the room was silent.

"You can open your eyes now," Athos said with amusement. Aramis did so, unsurprised Athos had noticed, he was more surprised Treville hadn't.

"A week huh?" he commented. "How far are we from Paris?" The Beaufort hills were rather large, he only knew they were somewhere in them.

"Perhaps three days at a good pace," Athos said.

"Huh," Aramis looked upwards, that sounded like a lot of riding. But then, over a week that would be considerably less riding a day, and the other option was staying here.

"Would you rather have longer?" Athos asked him. "Treville won't be leaving for a while I can go and ask."

"No," he replied, he would manage, he put on a smile "besides we wouldn't want to leave Treville too long without us."

Athos smiled back.

They were interrupted by the return of Porthos and D'Artagnan.

"Brought you food," Porthos announced upon seeing that he was awake.

"I'm not hungry," Aramis told him.

"You should try to eat something, you missed food last night," Porthos disagreed coming to sit on the side of the bed. Aramis gave him a look but knew the other man would be stubborn about it so started to lever himself into a sitting position. Porthos helped him put the pillow in a helpful position and, once he was sitting, handed him a plate of food, it was only bread and soup but Aramis really wasn't hungry.

"If you eat that, D'Artagnan has wine," Porthos said and Aramis' eyes snapped to the man in question, D'Artagnan smiled, lifting a small jug temptingly.

"You wouldn't withhold wine from an injured man would you?" Aramis said imploringly, he was pretty sure Porthos would not be so mean. Athos chuckled and Porthos frowned.

"Just try the soup please?" he begged.

Aramis decided to humour him and did try it. It was nice but he wasn't going to be able to manage much. Athos got up from his seat going over to where D'Artagnan was putting the wine on the side table and poured a couple of glasses. To Aramis' delight, he brought them over to the bed and gave him one before sitting and drinking from the other. Porthos sighed, getting up to sit in a chair.

"I'm sure I could have got him to have more," he said to Athos.

"Maybe," Athos agreed. "But I have not had wine for two days and would not pour one for myself and not give him one."

"You have wine last night," D'Artagnan said as he came over to sit down with wine too, passing Porthos a glass he held.

"Did I?" Athos replied lightly, smiling at Aramis. "I had forgotten."

Aramis smiled back, savouring the taste of the wine, he had missed it. He did however take more of the soup, just to please Porthos. After a few minutes he had just about had enough of the soup and was working out how to tell Porthos to take it away when the door opened and an unusually timid Henri came in.

"Hello," Aramis said, happy the boy had returned. He put the plate aside, glad when Porthos took it before the remnants could spill on the bed.

"Hello," Henri greeted back coming over to the bed and sitting on it. "I want to apologise for my behaviour earlier."

"It's alright," Aramis didn't need an apology. "You were upset, a lot had just happened."

"I shouldn't have run away from you," Henri continued looking downwards, "it wasn't your fault."

"No, perhaps not," Aramis poked the boy in the tunic until he looked back at him again, Aramis smiled. "I was surprised your uncle is to take you in, I really hadn't thought of what would happen afterwards, I should have talked to you about it."

Henri slowly smiled back. "I should be glad to have somewhere to go, I suppose."

"You would always have had somewhere to go, but it is good that your uncle wants you," Aramis replied seriously.

"Athos says I can always be a musketeer later," Henri said with a glance to the other man.

Aramis looked at him too, unsurprised that is what Athos had offered Henri. "Well, he is right, you are young, there is lots of time. See how things are with your uncle, you might like it."

"Umm, that is what people are telling me," Henri nodded.

"People?" Aramis was curious.

"I was talking to Mirabella," the boy said.

"Yes?"

"She believes my uncle is a good man," Henri continued. "She says she and Marcus will come with me."

"That's nice of her," Aramis replied, he knew Mirabella and Marcus had no children of their own but he was surprised they would go with the boy.

"Yeah, they worked for my mother, then my father and now me," Henri said, frowning slightly. "if I will have them, or rather if my uncle will."

"I'm sure your uncle will consider it at the very least." Henri was worried but Aramis wasn't going to make the mistake of promising anything.

"I saw Ames too," Henri said standing and looking around the room. "He says I am to pack my things, and any of my father's things I want, he is packing away a lot of stuff from the castle. He says we will be taking several carts back and I can take anything, within reason."

"That's good," Aramis said, unsure if it really was.

"When is Ames leaving?" Athos asked Henri as the boy passed him and went to pull a chest away from the wall.

"He intends to leave in the morning," Henri replied.

"So soon?" Porthos commented. Henri looked to them thoughtfully.

"There is not much to do except sort the men and he hopes to be done with that by tonight," Henri stood, looking at the chest full of bedding. Then he stopped what he was doing and looked at Aramis again. "Ames says my uncle is excited to meet me, he will ride out in the morning to meet us on the road, probably at some village by lunch time."

"See, what are you worried about? Your uncle must be very excited not to wait until you arrive," Aramis smiled again. Perhaps the boy's uncle would be a very good thing after all.

"Yes," Henri twisted his fingers. "Will you come with us? At least as far as to meet my uncle? Please?"

Aramis rose an eyebrow at his request before looking to Athos. He wasn't going to say no, he doubted Athos would either.

"I don't see why not," Athos replied after a moment and none of them could hold back a smile at Henri's grin.

"Good," Henri replied excitedly and he bent over to start throwing the bedding out of the chest, Aramis assumed to make way for his things.

Aramis stayed abed for pretty much the rest of the day. He got up once or twice to take a walk around the room or help Henri with his packing. He liked looking out of the open windows too, about as close to fresh air as he was getting at the moment. He heard the musketeers leaving not long after lunch and the others left for a while, Porthos and D'Artagnan to sort out the horses and Athos to get an update from Ames. Mirabella came by for a while in the afternoon, she brought their cleaned and repaired clothes and to Aramis' dismay insisted on changing his bandages for the last time. Eventually, evening came and dinner was eaten, Aramis had to admit it was pleasant here in the company of his friends but he couldn't wait to leave this place tomorrow and start heading back to Paris. He was fed up of this castle.

AN: I hope you enjoyed! We are coming to the end, just wrapping things up, there is just one chapter left, seems fitting to post it tomorrow when we'll all be missing musketeers! Much thanks to my wonderful reviewers, they are very much appreciated!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Together at the end.

Aramis stood quietly, fiddling with his hat as he watched Porthos saddle his horse. Specifically the horse the stable man Remy had given him. He had asked for something a bit more forward going than the animal he had been given the other day, he would rather not plod through the french countryside, and Remy had pretty much given him the pick of the stables. The horse he had chosen was one Remy had described as a well bred willing animal, and the light bay stallion certainly looked pleasant, if he was nice enough Aramis saw no reason he could not be kept at the garrison once they got back there.

They had risen this morning to find the castle already bustling. Ames' men were readying to leave, carts being loaded, men being fed and horses being saddled. They'd had breakfast before getting ready themselves. The others had helped him dress again which had been a painful experience, he was still using a sling, he wasn't convinced he should be up and about but he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to leave here. At some point Athos had located Aramis' weapons, Aramis had been very glad to see them but dreaded putting them on. Porthos had suggested they take them for him but Aramis at least wanted to look like a musketeer for the beginning of their trip when they would be riding with Henri and Ames' men.

Porthos finished tacking up the horse and turned to him.

"You sure about this?" Porthos asked him.

"Yes," Aramis answered for the tenth time. He stepped over to the horse and took off his sword attaching it to the saddle instead, Porthos took his pistol and fastened it to the other side. Aramis paused, "the cloak as well," he decided. It sat on his injured left shoulder and he would be more comfortable without it, it was going to be a warm day anyway.

Porthos sighed, unfastening his cloak and rolling it up to attach to the back of the saddle. "Just don't push it," he counselled.

"We only have to keep up with them this morning, I'll take it easy the rest of the time, I promise," he offered Porthos with a slight smile.

"I don't intend to give you a choice," Porthos smiled back. "Come on then."

Porthos led the horse over to the mounting block in the entrance to the stables and held him there as Aramis braced himself, putting on his hat. He carefully got on and was glad it wasn't too painful, but it only lasted until Porthos led the horse, and his waiting animal, out of the stables and across the busy courtyard, every movement of the horse sent shooting pains through him. He grit his teeth, holding tight to the saddle, he was glad Porthos was directing them, this would take a while to get used to. They came to a stop where D'Artagnan was waiting with his horse and Athos'.

"Where is Athos?" Porthos asked him.

"Getting more supplies for the trip," D'Artagnan answered. Sure enough, Athos returned a short time later with four bedrolls, packages that probably contained food and filled water containers, amongst other things. These were attached to saddles, though all Aramis got was a bedroll and water. Once Athos had finished attaching them to the saddle he handed Aramis another smaller water container.

"What's this?" Aramis asked as he took it.

"I found some good whiskey," Athos replied, giving him a pat on the leg. "Thought you might appreciate it." Aramis didn't waste time, opening it and trying some, it was good.

It was not long before Ames' men were ready to leave the courtyard. His three companions mounted up and Aramis didn't complain as Porthos once again reached over to lead his horse. Ames had invited them to ride with him at the front. Henri was there, sat atop his horse Blaise and was obviously pleased to see them. He smiled back at the boy, glad to see him in high spirits. Behind them Mirabella and her husband were in charge of a cart. The large company began to leave the courtyard, once they cleared the gates Porthos let go of Aramis' horse and Aramis took up the reins, satisfied when a nudge with his feet had an immediate response.

As they headed down the hill Ames' kept them at a walking pace, with several carts in tow they would probably not go much faster on the hill roads and Aramis was glad, he didn't think he would last long at a trot. The wound their way through the villages and along the hill roads for most of the morning, eventually reaching the main road where their speed picked up a bit. Aramis had long since given up trying to talk with Henri, the boy was in good spirits, but let the others chat with him and instead concentrated on staying on his horse.

They had not ridden long on the main road, in fact just reached the flatter ground beyond the hills, when a messenger rode up to them. He informed Ames that the duke was waiting in a village not five miles further up the road. Within the hour they were arriving at the village, just in time for lunch. The majority of the company waited just beyond the village, Ames didn't want to bring his forty men and their twenty plus prisoners into the village inn. With Henri and Ames they went to meet Deverell, halting their horses outside the inn. Aramis intentionally waited until Porthos dismounted and came over to help him, having Porthos ready to steady him seemed less embarrassing than collapsing in a heap, and then carefully dismounted.

"Alright?" Athos asked as he stepped over to them and took the reins of Aramis' horse. For a moment Aramis didn't answer holding on to Porthos as he waited for the pain to diminish. He managed a nod and Athos shared a look with Porthos before leading the horses off to tie them up.

"I'm not sure that was convincing," Porthos said to him with a smile as Aramis straightened up. Aramis smiled back. Henri came over to him and Porthos stepped away to tie his horse up also.

"Aramis," Henri said, he looked nervous.

"Henri," Aramis replied smiling at him and putting an arm over his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," the boy replied looking towards the inn.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Yes," Henri said sheepishly.

"Don't be," Aramis spotted Ames' waiting for them at the door to the inn. "Come on."

A glance around assured him Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan were right behind him as he went with Henri into the inn. It wasn't to busy inside, there was the smell of hot food and the chatter of the regulars at the bar, Ames quickly spotted his master and they went over to the duke. Aramis had seen the man only once before, at court a few years ago but he hadn't changed, a middle aged portly man who seemed intelligent and kind, more so than Aramis remembered, he looked comfortable here, he never had at court. Deverell smiled when he saw them, or more specifically, Henri.

"Ah, here you are," he said as he stood.

"Sire," Ames greeted. "This is Henri."

"A pleasure to meet you Henri," Deverell said to the boy.

Aramis gave Henri a small push. "Hello, sir," he said nervously.

"I'm sure my man has told you how I am looking forward to having you stay with me," Deverell said.

"Yes sir," Henri replied, Aramis smiled as the boy looked to him.

"I am sorry about what has happened, with my brother, your father," he corrected. "But I assure you you will have a place to stay with me now, I can teach you how to be a duke, how to run the province, to farm, or fight if you prefer. Would you like that?"

"I think so," Henri said a slight smile appearing.

Deverell smiled back, "we are family Henri, I look forward to getting to know you." He looked to the men beside Henri, "who are your friends?"

Henri introduced them and they sat down to lunch. Aramis wasn't hungry but had the misfortune of sitting beside Porthos who nagged him to eat something. Henri was soon chatting happily with his uncle and Aramis couldn't help being pleased, the boy and his uncle would hopefully make a good little family. Deverell was obviously excited about Henri coming to live with him, Aramis could understand that, finding family after being alone for so long was a wonderful feeling. And he imagined suddenly having a child to protect and share your knowledge with must be very rewarding.

After lunch they got ready to get on the road again. Mirabella and her husband arrived at the inn and Henri introduced them to his uncle who was happy to have them in his household if Henri wished it. As their company left the inn Aramis watched as Henri raced off to show his uncle his horse, he felt a slight sadness as the boy ran passed him without even an acknowledgement.

"You've done a good thing," Mirabella said as she came up beside him as he followed his brothers to the horses.

He stopped, smiled at her, "you think so?"

"I am very glad you came into the castle when you did," she said and he chuckled.

"I can't say I was happy about that but I am very grateful you, Henri and your husband did not let me die," he told her. "I am in your debt."

"I don't think so, we'd still be working for Drago were it not for you, or dead because of him," she smiled at him. "Perhaps we helped each other?"

"Very well," Aramis accepted. "But if you ever need anything you know where to find me?"

"Umm, come to Paris and ask for Aramis?" she teased. "I hear your reputation precedes you."

"Very funny, you would have better luck coming to the garrison," he disagreed.

"Very well, I will keep that in mind," she smiled kindly at him and then went over to the cart she and her husband were driving.

Aramis went over to the horses, standing beside the others, who gave him comforting smiles as they watched their young companion leave. Henri had jumped on Blaise and was still talking with his uncle as the other man mounted his horse. His uncle chuckled at something the boy said before turning to Ames and asking if they were ready to go.

"Wait!" Henri suddenly realised what he had forgotten, that the musketeers would not be coming with him, and threw himself off his horse and raced over to them. "Aramis," he said as he came to a halt in front of him.

Aramis smiled and with his good right arm offered the boy a hug. Henri did so carefully, wary of his injuries. "I'll miss you," Aramis told him.

"You will?" Henri asked.

"Yes, you'll have to convince your uncle to come to Paris more often," he said with a smile as the boy stepped back.

"I will, we will," Henri took a breath, "I'll miss you too."

"But you know your letters, you can always write," Aramis gave him a nudge.

"And if I want to be a musketeer?" Henri asked them glancing over to Athos.

"Then come find us," Aramis replied with a grin.

Henri grinned back and with farewells to the four of them went back to his uncle. They watched them go, Aramis sighed.

"Well," Athos broke the silence, "do you want to stay here for the night?"

"No, how about we find somewhere in the middle of nowhere?" he asked them, he'd had enough of buildings and castles and people, somewhere quiet would be nice.

"You sure you want to ride on?" D'Artagnan asked.

"No, but I'm sure I don't want to stay here," Aramis replied going over to untie his horse and lead it over to the village's mounting block. He slowly got on, glad the horse was patient enough and then rode back over to the others. "Well?" he asked, they had not mounted.

"You'd rather sleep out somewhere on the hard ground than a soft bed?" Porthos asked him.

Aramis raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you?" He would much rather be out somewhere with only them for company.

Slowly Porthos grinned. "Yes," he replied going to get on his horse. Athos and D'Artagnan shared a look before getting on their horses too.

"Which way do you want to go?" Athos asked him leaning on his saddle.

"Which way to Paris?" he said.

"Well if we follow this road and turn right at some point..."

"No,"Aramis stopped him. "Which direction?"

Athos smiled and pointed off into the countryside. Aramis nodded and nudged his horse off in that direction feeling light hearted as the others followed. They rode for an hour or so until Aramis was sure they were far enough from anything to be left alone, not that it mattered, he didn't think he could go any father anyway. They had found a pleasant clearing beside a stream in some old woodland and came to a halt.

"Well, this'll do," Porthos decided, swinging his leg over his horse and hopping off.

"I agree," Athos dismounted also. "Aramis?"

"I think so," Aramis smiled at D'Artagnan who dismounted beside him and held Aramis' horse. Aramis braced himself and slowly got off, he would have fallen right there if Athos hadn't appeared behind him.

"Careful," Athos said, pulling Aramis' good arm over his shoulder and taking him over to a tree. "Sit down, we'll build a camp. Porthos the fire, I'll sort the horses, D'Artagnan get the bags."

Aramis couldn't help a groan as he sat at the base of the tree and leaned back against it, he closed his eyes enjoying the warmth and the sunshine. The birds were singing, the stream was babbling, there was the slightest of breezes and he could smell wild garlic by the water. He opened his eyes as someone thumped down beside him. D'Artagnan had dropped an arm load of bedding and bags but was looking at him.

"D'Artagnan?" he asked him.

"You going to be alright?" D'Artagnan asked looking back down to the bags and fighting with a buckle.

"Don't see why not," he replied feeling positive, then he indicated their surroundings with a smile, "Sunshine, good food, good company, I should be right as rain in no time."

D'Artagnan looked around them before unfurling a bed roll but made no other comment. Aramis watched the younger man.

"I never thanked you for saving my life," Aramis said lightly, resting an arm on an upraised leg and picking some grass.

"Wouldn't have had to save your life if you hadn't stopped an arrow for me," D'Artagnan said, sitting back, eyes down.

"It's fine, it wasn't your fault they were shooting at us," he dismissed.

"I could have got you killed," D'Artagnan finally said what was bothering him.

"You wouldn't have, they were the ones doing the shooting," Aramis told him, worried that it was bothering him. "D'Artagnan we protect each other. All for one, one for all. I don't regret it, we can just say thanks and move on."

"You can just move on like that?" D'Artagnan frowned at him. "What if you had died? How do you move on from that?"

Aramis sighed, throwing away the piece of grass he had. "It's difficult, it takes time, but you lean on your brothers, work your way through it," It would take time, but D'Artagnan would learn how to deal with it, he didn't doubt that, in the mean while they would just be there for him. "But D'Artagnan I didn't die, were all here in the peaceful countryside, enjoy it while you can," he nudged his shoulder finally getting a smile back.

Porthos came back then with an arm full of wood for the fire. He dropped it in front of them looking at the area with a frown. "I though you were sorting out a camp?" he asked D'Artagnan.

"I am," D'Artagnan said standing and sorting out the bags he had. Aramis gave him a smile glad to get on in return.

Porthos knelt down to sort out the fire. "You looked like you were having a serious conversation," he commented.

"D'Artagnan was just worrying," Aramis replied lightly.

"Aye, we've certainly done enough of that recently," Porthos narrowed his eyes at him.

But Aramis was not put off, "no need for it here, let's just enjoy the sunshine."

Aramis' happy mood seemed to wear off on his companions who in turn seemed lighter for it. They were going back to Paris, all was right with the world again.

In a short while the camp was set up and a fire going in which Athos was cooking bits of meat he had acquired from the castle kitchens that morning.

"Well what shall we do this afternoon?" Aramis asked them, smiling as the three of them looked at him. He was in quite a bit of pain, and had no intention of moving at all, but the looks on their faces were priceless.

Athos narrowed his eyes at him before smiling slightly, and turning to D'Artagnan, "D'Artagnan?" he said, indicating something sat amongst the bags with a nod as his hands were busy with the food.

D'Artagnan evidently saw what Aramis couldn't and stood up to get it, he came back with Aramis' pistol and pouch with it's accoutrements including gunpowder and cleaning equipment. Porthos chuckled as Aramis was handed it and D'Artagnan sat back down, smiling also.

"You can stay where you are," Athos replied with amusement, "clean that if you wish."

"Perhaps we can spar?" D'Artagnan asked Athos.

"Sounds good," Athos replied, handing out some of the food.

"Glad to be going home?" Porthos asked with a smile, as he handed him some of the meat.

Aramis took in his three friends around him, "I already am."

THE END

AN: I hope everyone enjoyed! Perhaps a little filler for the lack of musketeers tonight :-(

I've loved writing this and am glad people have enjoyed reading it. I just wanna thank everyone who was kind enough to review, they have been very much appreciated and do tell me whether you like the end! :-D

One last note; So I know this is probably not the place to ask this but I was watching the first episode again and was wondering what was the point of Adele? I thought she might be brought up again before the end of the season but she wasn't. Do people think think she was there to introduce us to how nasty the cardinal is and how troublesome Aramis is? Or is she part of a larger story arc, the cardinal knows Aramis slept with his wife and now suspects he has been with the queen? Kinda feel she was forgotten by the writers...

Anywho, thanks for reading! Until next time!


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